My Story is Different
by cr8vgrl
Summary: My story is different because I was actually ready to die, but I didn't. Fate had a different path it wanted me to take, one the I never would've dreamed of, but soon gave me a purpose I had never had. 101 Prompts Challenge. Some short chapters.
1. Enemies

**A/N: I own nothing! I hope you enjoy!**

This is Prompt No. 17-Enemies

My story is different because I cannot blame anyone but myself for the situation I have found myself in. Three hours ago, I had thought that I might actually make it through this cursed war, but now, I have no hope. The fear of battle is the worst stench a human being can smell, and the air is fouled with it. Muskets fire over and over again, stopping only long enough to reload.

A cannon ball shatters the ground a little ways from me, and I cover my head, turning away so that the shower of metal, dirt, and blood rain down on my back. I look over at the few remains of the man that had been standing there and my heart is numb, which scares me more than this whole war.

How can I be so calm as I watch my fellow human beings being torn to shreds over a matter that could simply be discussed over a period of a few hours? How can I, after only two and a half months of this, be so detached from the pain and suffering of human life? The answer is simple: I was ordered to do so.

During my meager training for this post, there had been one rule reiterated over and over again until I grew sick of it: You pause, you die. It was as simple as that. The very act of pausing in the fighting, grieving for someone that has been shot down next to you, is forbidden, for if you do so, you just might lose your own life. You don't even look around anymore. You just keep shooting.

As I reload my rifle clumsily, having the use of only one arm since the other one has a fresh bullet in it, I wonder if that is why I am in the predicament I am in now. I cared too much for people. I refused to just close off my mind without trying to help them. And now, for this man, the one that had just been killed, I had risked my life. I had run from my position of relative safety to his side, an area of high risk, just to help him. Mentally, I berate myself, for I am not even fighting on the right side.

Yes, it is true. I am fighting for a side I do not believe in, because I am taking my brother's place. You may wonder if he is dead, for that could be the only reason that I would willingly walk into this living hell. Well, you are wrong. My brother is very much alive, and he and his wife are probably safely in the North, lying low for a while. I took his place because he is my twin brother, and he means everything in the world to me. We were born only twenty-two minutes apart, Mitchell and Michelle Torres. Most of my friends call me Mitchie to keep from confusing us.

I took Mitchell's place because he refused to fight, and I was afraid that my father might do something terrible to him sooner or later, so I convinced him through many arguments that he and Anna, my maidservant and his beau, should escape to the North, and I would take his place for a while until I could go home. We both believe in equality for humans, no matter what their skin color, and that is a hated opinion in Virginia, and in our very home, but neither of us care.

Yet now, with the danger tensing my every muscle, I begin to regret offering myself up to this "cause." I am fighting for a side I don't even believe in, and I'm about to be killed by the side I want to be on. Life is ironic, isn't it? I hear a sharp whistle, and I try to duck, but I am too late. The bullet hits me again in the shoulder and I fall backwards, my gun tumbling out of my hands from the force of the blow. My vision swims and I close my eyes to the haze of the smoke covered world for a moment, and when I open them again, someone has taken my gun, thinking that I was dead.

I gaze around and realize that my army has fled, retreating to safety and leaving me defenseless. Great. Through the smoky curtain of the battlefield, I make out a small group of the opposite side, walking toward me. With a groan that shows how much pain I'm in, I unpin my badge and toss it onto a dead man next to me. Mitchell Torres is dead.

I fully expect the lieutenant in front to shoot me with the gun he holds in his bloody, dirt-streaked hands that are much like mine, but he doesn't. When he is close enough for me to see his face, I gasp. "You!" I croak, for his face is familiar to me, and rather welcome, but I am still shocked to see him in uniform. I am not given the chance to dwell on his reason for appearing, though, because the pain from my wounds overtakes me, and I faint, my mind spiraling back to three months ago when I had first met the lieutenant, Shane Grey.


	2. France

**A/N: I own absolutely nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters. **

**This is Prompt No. 41-France**

"You're going to be late if you keep staring out the window like that."

Commander Shane Grey glanced up at his brother, Nate Grey and scowled. "I have absolutely no desire to go," he said huffily, returning to staring out the window of the bed and breakfast, his mood matching that of the weather. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, and Shane was beginning to get sick of the incessant pattering of the rain against to glass. The streets of France were wet and muddy, and Shane could not even see to the end of the street because of the drive of the rain. "Why were we sent here in the first place?"

Nate, standing by the fire with one arm draped lazily on the mantle regarded his brother with a slightly annoyed expression. "You know exactly why," he told him. "You're just trying to trap me in an explanation that will extend past the time we must leave."

Shane raised an eyebrow at his brother, amused that such a scholar as he had turned out to be so valuable to the cause. With a sigh, Shane gripped the arms of the chair and hauled himself to his feet. "I suppose we must go," he said, stating the inevitable. Nate nodded and gave a sigh of relief. Both brothers knew that Shane would be going no matter what, it was just a question of what mood he was going to take with him.

"Come on," Nate said. "I've set out your clothes." Shane followed him into the small bedroom and grimaced when he saw the costume laid out before him. "Wha-" he began, but Nate cut him off.

"I've told you a thousand times if I've told you once, Shane," he told his brother testily. "The point of a masquerade is to actually wear a costume."

Shane let his eyes rove over the costume, a harlequin costume, and muttered, "I hate the U.S." Nate shook his head. "No you don't," he said knowingly. "If you did, you wouldn't be anywhere near here." He handed the costume to his brother and then left, closing the door behind him to afford his brother some privacy.

Shane glared at the ruffled collar and muttered, "The things I do for my country."

* * *

"Michelle, do hurry up," Lady Tess coaxed. "We don't have all day. We have to be at the ball soon." A muffled reply was heard, and Tess rolled her eyes. "You're as thin as a rail. Don't tell me you can't get into that dress."

On the other side of the door, Mitchie huffed and gave another tug at her tight-fitting dress. "I can't get into the dress," she hissed, too low for her friend to hear. With one last, good tug, the dress slid into place, but not without the sound of some stitches ripping. Mitchie winced, embarrassed that a dress would be this difficult to fit into. She stepped out into the room, turning slightly so that Tess could see the whole effect of the dress.

"Well," Tess said, eyeing Mitchie up and down, "it's rather last season, but otherwise, it looks lovely on you."

Mitchie blushed, realizing that Tess didn't mean to sound demeaning, but was still embarrassed that this was the best she could make do with. "Thank you," she said softly, and her downcast eyes fully told Tess that she had spoken out of turn.

"Oh, Mitchie," she said, a slight note of tension in her voice. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. You look just fine, and I'm sure plenty of young men will want to dance with you." She knew that a statement like that would strike a nerve with Mitchie, so she said it playfully.

It had the desired effect, for Mitchie looked up, her eyes flashing with a bit of resistance, and said with a toss of her lush brown curls, "Well I don't want to dance with them." She smiled at Tess. "You know that I'm just here as your company. I wasn't even invited."

Tess smiled and grabbed her fan. "That's the spirit," she told her friend and gave her arm a tug, pulling her out the door and out to the waiting carriage. She moved so quickly that the rain barely touched her before she was safely inside. Mitchie, more hesitant to be out in the French society, was less fortunate. Her lack of eagerness hindered her steps, and she was rather wet when she climbed into the carriage.

Tess wisely made no comment, and the drive to the hall was quiet, except for the patter of the rain and the creak of the carriage wheels. Soon, though, they arrived at the hall, and the driver hopped down this time to open the door for them. Tess thanked him and paid him from her purse, which always hung inside her skirt, just next to her hip, and the two young women made their way inside. The hall was a mass of twisting and turning corridors, and Mitchie felt her eyes widen as she tried to take in all the grandeur.

"Not bad," Tess said with a sniff. Mitchie cast her friend a look of disbelief. She knew that Tess was a very wealthy girl of noble English descent, but even _she_ must be, at the very least, a little impressed. Mitchie, the daughter of a prominent Virginian cotton grower, was quite impressed.

A footman took their cloaks, and Tess passed Mitchie the mask she was supposed to wear, slipping her own on with ease. After all, Tess had explained, masquerades were the French style. Mitchie slid the mask over her head, trying not to mess up the curls that Tess had painstakingly done for her, refusing to let their maid, Lola, attempt such a style. "Are you ready?" Tess asked, her feet already propelling her toward the staircase that would take them down to the ballroom, where sweet music was coming from.

"No," Mitchie whispered slightly, knowing that Tess would not be able to hear her. She dutifully followed after her friend, reminding herself that she was the one who had requested staying with Tess for a month. She was the one who had expressed a natural curiosity in the party in the first place, so it would be her that would be congenial and cordial throughout the night, if only not to embarrass Tess.

The staircase Mitchie found herself descending was completely for show. Its only purpose was to allow the newcomers to parade themselves before the onlookers below. As she took each step with graceful ease, Mitchie tried not to look out over the sea of people like Tess was doing. She was too embarrassed over her dress, which was not even a costume. It was made of a light blue silk, fashioned with white diamond patterns all over it and white ruffles around the scooped neckline and the three quarter sleeves. Yes, it was rather last season, as Tess had observed, but it had fit in to the itinerary for the night, or so Mitchie had thought before she saw all the other gowns.

The soft light played off of the floor, basking the dancers, their colorful outfits blending together, in a soft glow as the musicians played their haunting melody. Mitchie knew which song they were playing even though she could not speak French. It was a song of lovers separated from each other simply because of status, one of life's greatest injustices. In that brief moment, Mitchie forgot not to look down at the assembly, and her eyes caught those of another's.

He was dressed in a harlequin's costume, his black hair making the black mask he wore seem very dark against his smooth skin. His eyes were what captivated Mitchie the most, since they seemed to peer right into her heart. Her lips parted in surprise, but her quiet nature forced her to look away as she stepped onto the last step of the staircase where Tess was waiting for her.

"There are some seats over there," Tess said, oblivious to what had just happened. She nodded to the edge of the ballroom, and Mitchie just nodded by way of answered, too preoccupied to provide a decent answer.

The two young women walked over to the chairs and sat down to wait for partners. As one gallant young man snatched Tess away, Mitchie found herself looking for the harlequin. She scanned the room, her eyes lighting up when she found him seated in a corner all by himself. She blushed when she realized that he was watching her, and her hand moved up to fiddle nervously with her white mask. Throughout the dance, Mitchie kept sneaking glances his way, only to find him looking back at her each time. She smiled, and was still smiling when Tess came back to her seat, breathing hard from the exertion.

"You look happy," Tess commented as she eyed her friend.

"I am," Mitchie said with a smile. "And I'm not sure why." Why should this man, a man she knew nothing about, strike such happiness in her heart?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her shoulder.


	3. Lust

**This is Prompt No. 13-Lust**

"Mademoiselle, might I have a dance with the loveliest lady in the room?" The voice was deep and almost harsh in its hardness. Mitchie turned and found a young man with piercing black eyes staring down at her, almost a full head taller than she. His request startled her, for no one but the harlequin in the corner had taken any notice of her tonight in her out of fashion gown. For some reason, she felt unable to speak.

Lady Tess answered for her, giving her a little push towards the young man, who was already standing rather close. "Of course you may," she told the gentleman. "Take good care of her."

There was something about the way the man's cold eyes sparkled as he said, "Oh I will," that made Mitchie shudder as he pulled her easily into his arms, wheeling her out onto the dance floor to swirl around with the other couples. Mitchie let her gaze drift from the man holding her to the corner where the harlequin had been sitting and found him still there, watching her intently. Could that even be a scowl on his face, partially hidden under that black mask of his?

There was no doubt in Mitchie's mind that this man that danced with her was of excellent breeding, for he handled her with the perfect poise and grace, but there was a hardness in the way he gripped her waist, and a possessiveness in the way he spun her around that made Mitchie guess that he was a man rather used to getting his way with women. The thought made her shudder again, and the action proved to be her undoing.

"Cold, my darling?" the young man asked.

"_Since when have I become his darling?" _Mitchie wondered, and the thought delayed her answer for too long.

"Come," he commanded, gripping her elbow and giving her no choice but to follow. "We shall see what we can do about that."

They left the ballroom and the young man practically dragged Mitchie down the hall to a small study of to the side. The sounds of the ballroom were distant, and Mitchie knew that should she call out, there would be no one to hear her. She cringed and tensed as the door closed, struggling in vain. It was up to her now, for she was all alone.

No sooner had she thought this than the young man had backed her into a corner and was pressing himself closer and closer to her, his eyes gleaming at the promise of a conquest this night. Mitchie kicked and squirmed, making it perfectly clear even to someone rather simple minded that she wanted no part in these loquacious activities, but the man persisted.

"Don't!" she gasped out, just as the door to the study flew open.

The man who held her captive whirled around, dropping Mitchie to the floor in an undignified heap in his surprise. There, with his brown eyes flashing behind his mask, stood the harlequin, his whole body tensed for a fight. "She said don't," he said evenly, and his voice, so different from that of the Frenchman's, soothed Mitchie's nerves even in this tensed situation.

To her dismay, she saw the Frenchman tense as well, clenching his fists. She pushed herself back into the corner of the study, gulping. This young man was not about to relinquish his prize so easily.


	4. Innocence

**This is Prompt No. 20-Innocence**

Mitchie watched in dismay as the Frenchman balanced himself on the balls of his toes, waiting for his opponent to make a move. When the harlequin waited as well, the Frenchman taunted him, hoping to rouse his anger. "How dare you come and interrupt us?" he hissed.

The harlequin, though, refused to be played and instead said, "How dare _you_ force yourself on such an innocent girl?" He glanced at Mitchie for a split second and then said, "Go find yourself some courtesan, but stay away from her."

With a roar, the Frenchman lunged at the harlequin, who countered with a hard blow to the jaw. The Frenchman stood slowly, and the real fight began. The harlequin had dealt the first blow, but who would draw first blood? Mitchie shrank back even more, pressing herself as tightly as she could to keep from having the fighters step on her in the tiny little room.

Blows were dealt so quickly that Mitchie lost track as to who was gaining the upper hand. Neither seemed to be doing better than the other. Their hard breathing was visible in the otherwise-silent room and Mitchie's eyes stayed focused on the harlequin, watching his every move. He seemed to be doing well, not taking too many hits, but not able to give too many either.

"Give up, States Brat," the Frenchman hissed as he swung at the harlequin, and missed.

The harlequin actually grinned at that and shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "Not a chance, sir." Mitchie noticed his respect for his opponent even as the latter insulted him. Briefly, her mind wandered to what the Frenchman had said. He had said "States Brat." Did that mean that the harlequin was from the United States just like herself?

A cry brought her back to the present, her eyes immediately roving over the harlequin to see if he was injured, and if so, how badly, but he was not. It was the Frenchman that was injured, blood spurting from his nose. While he had his hands on his knees, the harlequin made no move against him, but as soon as he stood up to full height, the harlequin delivered one last cracking blow that sent the Frenchman flat on his back.

"That didn't feel right," the harlequin muttered, wriggling the fingers on his delivering hand experimentally. Assured that they still functioned properly, the harlequin strode over to the desk at the end of the study and rang the bell there. Soon, a French butler came scurrying in, his eyes taking in the scene with curiosity, but saying nothing.

"Yes, sir?" he asked politely, ignoring the groaning figure on the floor.

"It seems that this man has had enough for the evening. Would you please make sure that he gets all the way home safely?" the harlequin asked, motioning to the Frenchman on the ground and stressing the "all" in "all the way."

The butler cast a glance at Mitchie, still huddled in the corner and his gaze softened slightly. "Of course, sir," he responded. He pulled the young man up from the ground supporting him as he exited the study.

Once they were gone, the harlequin made his way carefully to where Mitchie sat and extended his hand to her. "It's safe now," he promised, smiling at her. "I won't hurt you."

Mitchie smiled at him and took his hand, allowing him to pull her up off the ground. She brushed her skirt off and smiled up at him again. "I know that you wouldn't hurt me," she assured him. "You saved me back there, and I'm so grateful. Is there anything I can do for you to thank you?"

Far away, the music was changing from a slow dance to a faster one and the harlequin grinned, nodding. "If that fellow hasn't caused you to fear it, would you dance with me?"

**A/N: I realize that some of these chapters are much shorter than others, but believe me, they all play out correctly according to their categories. Hope you like it so far!**


	5. Dancing

**This is Prompt No. 47-Dancing**

Mitchie smiled at the harlequin and nodded, allowing him to take her arm. "I'd like that very much," she said. He was a full head taller than she, and his light touch made her feel safe, unlike the iron grip the Frenchman had used.

"So," the harlequin said as he guided her out of the study, closing the door firmly behind him as though shutting out the memories of the room as well. "You're from Virginia." The statement was just that, not a question.

Mitchie turned to face the harlequin, surprised. "How did you know?" she asked curiously.

The harlequin smiled, his eyes twinkling behind the mask he wore. "I can tell by your accent. Very southernish," he teased.

Mitchie smiled back at him and asked, "And where do you come from?"

The harlequin hesitated for a moment and then answered, "I lived in Virginia for a while, but I live up in the north now, around the Vermont area."

Mitchie noticed that he did not give a specific state and realized that he was not comfortable talking about the subject. They had returned to the ballroom, and the music, much livelier than when she had danced with the Frenchman, made her smile. "Shall we?" she asked, looking up at the harlequin next to her.

He took her in his arms, smiling as he nodded. "We shall," he said lightly, and they were off, dancing through the crowd, whirling gracefully in and out of the other couples. People stopped dancing to watch them, but for the first time, the attention didn't embarrass Mitchie. In actuality, she barely noticed the stares of the French nobility. Her complete attention was taken up by the man in front of her, the man that was staring down at her with a genuine look of bliss on his face.

When the song ended, the musicians struck up another lively tune, hoping to tempt this new, vivacious couple into dancing again. After Mitchie nodded her agreement, the harlequin was once again whirling her around, their feet moving so quickly that they were hard to see, but they never missed a beat, and they always missed their partner's toes. Mitchie laughed, delighted by her partner. Usually, she was so afraid to dance because of the closeness that dancing required to one's partner, but now, she found herself pressing even a little closer than necessary, and the harlequin didn't seem to mind.

The music stopped, and so did Mitchie and her partner. They were met with a small round of applause and many whispers as they left the dance floor, heading over to the refreshment table. The harlequin served Mitchie a glass of punch, which she accepted gratefully, and then served himself one as well. He led her over to a couple of chairs and they sat down.

"Do you enjoy Virginia?" he asked, surprising Mitchie by coming back to the subject that had seemed to bother him a while ago.

Mitchie took a sip of punch while she thought about her answer. "Yes," she said slowly. "I like it very much, only-" she stopped abruptly.

The harlequin tilted his head to the side. "Only what?" he asked gently.

"Only that I wish that we could have Virginia without the slaves," Mitchie admitted. "I don't feel right about owning other human beings." She looked up at the harlequin and said, "I get this horrid, queasy feeling in my stomach when I think about those slave markets where people buy and sell those poor people as though they were vegetables or something." Her face scrunched up worriedly as she went on. "I hate the idea of using them like dogs. I think it should be stopped."

The harlequin smiled at her, and the tension she had seen when he had started the conversation left him, allowing him to relax his shoulders and lean back against the back of the chair. "Your words have much truth in them," he said softly, so softly in fact, that Mitchie was forced to lean forward in order to hear him. He seemed just about to say something else, something important, when Tess rushed up.

"There you are!" she cried. "I got worried when I couldn't find you!" Her gaze fell on the harlequin and she curtsied. The harlequin acknowledged her bow, but made no move to get up.

"She ran into a little trouble," he said instead, "and then I asked her to dance. I'm sorry if I've kept her from you."

Tess glanced from Mitchie to the harlequin and back again. "No," she said slowly. "It's alright." She smiled and turned away, almost immediately being caught by another Frenchman wanting to dance with her.

Mitchie watched her friend go and sighed dramatically. "The trials and tribulations of being beautiful," she said, causing the harlequin to smile.

"You don't seem to have that problem, yet I find you more beautiful that she," he said softly.

Mitchie blushed, not believing him. "Thank you," she said politely.

"I mean it," he insisted. He started to say something else, but a shriek of laughter from a party across the room cut him off. He looked around at the crowd and remarked, "Would you join me for a stroll?" He noticed her hesitation and said, "I promise not to frequent any studies."

Mitchie smiled at his attempt to put her at ease. No, this man would not hurt her. She nodded and he extended his hand to help her up from her chair. With her hand on his arm, they walked out of the ballroom side by side.


	6. Star

**This is Prompt No. 88-Star**

The harlequin led Mitchie out to a balcony on the top floor of the hall. The rain had ceased, leaving France shining and wet in the moonlight. Mitchie glanced around her, taking in everything, including deep breaths of fresh, cold air. "France is very different than I expected," she said softly, looking out over the city, or what she could see of it.

The harlequin stepped up next to her, his eyes watching her face as she scanned the relatively dark streets of France. "What did you expect it to be?" he asked.

Mitchie realized that he really wanted to know. He wasn't just making conversation; he actually cared. "I'm really not sure," she admitted. "I guess I always thought that France was this glamorous city with lights and music and romance…" she trailed off, lost in her unrealistic world until she turned to him with a sheepish smile and said, "But I was wrong."

The harlequin shrugged. "Life is rarely what it seems," he told her, leaning over the balcony. He smiled, his eyes taking on a softer light. "But it doesn't hurt anyone to dream, now does it?"

Mitchie pretended to be thinking for a moment. "No," she said at last, smiling back. "I don't suppose it does."

They were both quiet for a moment until Mitchie remarked, "Aren't the stars beautiful?"

The harlequin tilted his head back, following Mitchie's gaze, and nodded. "Yes," he said quietly.

The rain had cleared the skies so that the stars could be seen, their pure, white lights twinkling brilliantly down on the two people staring up at them. Finally, after a long moment, Mitchie turned to the harlequin and asked in a soft, uncertain voice, "Will I ever see you again?"

The harlequin turned to look at her, slightly surprised. "Do you want to see me again?" he asked curiously.

Mitchie bit her lip, squirming as he looked at her so intently, truly wanting an honest answer. Did she want to see him again? Of course she did! The only problem was that she couldn't understand _why_ she wanted to see him. If she had felt gratitude, then her feelings would be understandable, but these feelings that he invoked in her heart were anything but grateful. "Yes," she finally decided.

Somewhere inside, a gong chimed the hour of midnight and both Mitchie and the harlequin turned instinctively at the noise. When she turned back around, Mitchie found the harlequin staring at her intently. "What?" she asked, fearing that she had done something wrong, although she couldn't think of what it might have been. Perhaps she had been too forward by asking to see him again?

"Nothing," the harlequin said, shaking his head. He smirked at her and said, his eyes twinkling behind his mask, "You know, in the spirit of the ball, we should take our masks off."

Mitchie tensed. "Why?" she asked.

"Because midnight is always the time for unmasking," he explained. Then, with another smirk, he added, "Plus, it's not like these masks hide a lot anyway."

Mitchie was forced to admit, "Good point."

The harlequin smiled at her this time and offered, "How about I go first, and then you?"

Mitchie nodded. "I guess so," she said quietly, her hand creeping up to touch the fabric of her mask.

With a flourish, the harlequin pulled the mask off, and Mitchie had to admit that he had been right. There was not much that the mask had covered, but it was still different to see the harlequin's full face. She found herself blushing as she looked at the handsome young man in front of her, and in order to cover her embarrassment, she too pulled off her mask with a little flourish of her own. Though she was completely clothed, Mitchie had to admit that she had never felt more exposed in her entire life than by taking off that meager piece of fabric, for now, the young man seemed to be staring right into her heart once more.

"You are beautiful," he said in a low voice, and Mitchie knew that he meant it. This was not a man that played the flirtatious games of the court. What he said was what he meant, and she was grateful that she didn't have to decipher his meanings.

"Thank you," she said softly. She looked up and met his eyes, extending her hand. "I'm Mitchie Torres."

"Mitchie?" he asked, startled by the different name.

"Michelle, actually," Mitchie clarified, "but I have a twin brother, Mitchell, and it's easier if people call me Mitchie." She shrugged as though embarrassed by her explanation. "We don't get mixed up that way."

"I see," the young man said, his chocolate eyes once again twinkling, reminding Mitchie very much of the stars they had recently been looking at. He took the hand she offered and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly. "I am Shane Grey," he said. "I'm so pleased to meet you, Miss Torres."

"Mitchie," Mitchie insisted, "please." Her eyes widened, for she was not quite sure where the added courage had come from, but Shane just smiled at her.

"Mitchie," he said softly, and pulled her closer, bending his head to kiss her.

With any other man, Mitchie would have pushed him away, but this man was different. There was something about him that set him apart, and Mitchie found herself actually leaning up into the kiss. Her eyes closed, anticipating his lips on hers, but she never felt them.

"Mitchie!" someone called, causing Mitchie to jerk back in shock and surprise.

Shane jumped as well and turned to find Mitchie's friend standing there, her mouth hanging slightly open in shock. He turned to Mitchie and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I really must go," he said. "I have to find my brother." He looked deeply into her eyes and said, "I do hope that we meet again someday."

"Me too," Mitchie murmured. "Goodbye, Mr. Grey."

Shane touched her cheek for a moment and said, "Shane, please." And with that, he was gone, bidding a polite "goodnight" to Tess, who was still standing there, slightly in shock.

After she had seen that Shane was gone, Mitchie breezed past Tess, calling over her shoulder, "Come, Tess. It's time we were getting home." Inwardly, she smiled. Rarely did she ever get to stun her friend, and this was a golden opportunity that she would not take lightly.

**A/N: Please review and tell me what you think! Reviews make my day! :D**


	7. Turmoil

**This is Prompt No. 15- Turmoil**

"You did what?!" Nate yelled, jumping up in the confines of the carriage and banging his head on the roof of the vehicle.

"Nate," Shane said calmly, "sit down. You'll do absolutely no good by shouting."

Nate sat down, rather ungracefully, in the moving carriage, and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "I'm listening," he said grudgingly.

His brother shrugged his shoulders. "There's no more to tell. We almost kissed and then her friend showed up and interrupted us. I excused myself the best I could and came to get you. You know that we have to be back in the States soon."

The carriage went over a dip and Nate grabbed wildly for the cushioned handle on the door of the carriage to keep himself steady. "I don't understand why you did it, though," he said, his tone implying that he didn't approve.

Shane felt his anger flare up. "What would you have had me do, Nate?" he demanded. "Should I just have left her there to be-to be-" he couldn't even formulate the rest of his words as he shuddered, remembering the terrified, vulnerable look on Mitchie's face when he had found her.

"No, no, no," Nate said impatiently, waving his hand dismissively. "I didn't mean about the part in the study. That was a perfectly gentlemanly thing to do, and I would have done it as well. I only meant that you should have left it at that and not have gotten mixed up with her by asking her to dance with you, and then to take a walk with you!"

"Nate, I was just being polite!" Shane rebuffed, but he knew that he had not just been polite. He had _wanted_ her to accept his dance invitation. He had _wanted_ her to take a walk with him, and he had _wanted_ to kiss her. Oh yes, he had wanted to kiss her, and it was all her friend's fault that he was not able to.

"She could've been a spy," Nate offered, crossing his arms as he watched his brother give a start. Ah, so he had not thought of that! "She could be telling someone about us right now!"

Shane, though, relaxed once more after the initial seed of doubt was implanted into his mind. "No," he said. "She wasn't a spy. I felt as though I could see into her heart, and I was pretty sure that she could see into mine. No, she definitely wasn't a spy." He smiled at his brother and said, "And the only person that she'll be telling about me is that friend of hers that walked in on us. Because if I know anything about women, she'll be wanting any and all details that she can get."

Nate shook his head and stared out the window of the rocking carriage. "I don't think you should get involved with women with your line of work. It's dangerous."

Shane smirked and tried to act innocent as he asked, "And how is Caitlyn?"

Nate turned from his spot near the window only long enough to glare at his brother and said, "She's different."

As Nate turned back around, effectively dropping the subject, Shane glanced over his brother and realized that he had never seen him as happy as he had been when he had secretly married Caitlyn a year ago. Now, with his thoughts flying out the window he had pressed his nose against, Nate was obviously thinking of his young wife and where she might be at that very moment.

Shane let the matter drop, not wanting to aggravate his brother, and leaned back against the seat, letting himself relax and think. At first, his mind was on the assignment he had been given, bringing him to France in the first place, but inevitably, his thoughts turned to Mitchie. He thought for a moment about what Nate had said, allowed the seed of doubt to fester for a moment, sprouting only long enough for him to pluck it out of his mind forever like an unwanted weed.

No, she was not a spy. He had tested her during one of their first conversations by not telling her exactly where he lived. If she had been looking for information, she would have pushed him, pressed him to be more specific, but no, she had dropped the subject until he had brought it up again, giving her one last chance to pry. She had not. At that moment, he was assured that she was not a spy. Her innocence was one aspect of her that had given him reason to think that she was not involved in anything underhanded, for innocence was a difficult mask to slip on, but the added experiment had solidified his answers the way he had wanted them to be.

He sat back once again, all tension and doubt erased. The turmoil was over, and the truth had won out.

**A/N: I'm not going to beg, but please guys, if you read, review and tell me what you think. I hate not knowing! :D**


	8. Fairytale

**This is Prompt No. 4-Fairytale**

"You must tell me!" Tess exclaimed for the third time, sitting eagerly on the edge of her carriage seat in the most unladylike fashion.

Mitchie rolled her eyes, knowing that in the darkness her friend would not be able to see the action and smiled. "No I mustn't, but I will."

Tess clapped her hands in approval and leaned back, satisfied. She immediately began arranging her skirts so that they would hang without wrinkle before she looked up and nodded, giving Mitchie a signal to go ahead with her story. "By all means," she told Mitchie excitedly. "Tell me."

"Well," Mitchie said, drawing out the word as she watched Tess squirm. Knowing that Tess would not be able to see her face, Mitchie smiled. This was an indulgence that rarely happened, for few things that happened to Mitchie interested Tess, and she would draw this out as much as possible. "No," she said, sitting back in her seat. "I'd better not."

"Mitchie!" The high-pitched whine made Mitchie smile again. She had Tess hooked, and she would not let her off so easily.

"Fine," she said, her tone indicated that even speaking of her experiences was pure martyrdom. "You placed me in quite a mess when you let that Frenchman dance with me," she said. A little guilt trip couldn't hurt that much.

"I'm sorry," Tess said, all eagerness and happiness gone from her voice. "I didn't realize that France could be so dangerous indoors. I'm glad that the harlequin was able to save you in time." At the mention of his name, the excitement was back in Tess's voice. "So what happened after that?"

"Well," Mitchie said, trying to remember everything in the correct order. "He asked me to dance."

"Yes," Tess agreed. "I saw you two. You were fabulous! I thought you didn't like to dance."

"I don't," Mitchie explained truthfully. "But dancing with him was so different and so…wonderful." Tess said nothing, but Mitchie could sense her friend's excitement from across the moving carriage. "So then, he asked me to take a walk with him and we ended up on the balcony, and then we took off our masks. After that, we almost kissed, but you happened along us at the exact wrong moment."

"Sorry." The tone of Tess's voice indicated that she really was. "I mean, what you were doing wasn't really appropriate. You'd only met the man a couple of hours ago, but," she said, her voice softening, "it sounds like you really liked him, so I'm sorry."

The carriage arrived soon at the young ladies' dwelling and Tess tipped the driver. They climbed the stairs and entered the building rather silently, opening the door in time to see the maid go flying off her chair in surprise, sheets of paper scatting as he fell. Skirts and cap array, the maid looked up at her mistress guiltily, her flawless, dark skin turning a dusky shade of red in embarrassment.

"Why, you lazy girl!" Tess cried out angrily. "Whose letters have you opened? Speak!"

Mitchie bent and retrieved one sheet of paper, glancing at the greeting. "Don't be angry with her," she told her friend before Tess could do something rash. "She didn't do anything wrong." She held up the letter so that Tess could see proof. "These letters are hers." She smiled at Lola and said, "I'm sure we'll find that she's completed every task with the utmost perfection and has simply taken some time to relax and read her letters. Am I right, Lola?"

The pretty maid nodded bashfully. "Yes, Miss Torres," she said meekly, casting quick, nervous glances Tess's way.

"Humph!" Tess said, handing the letter back to Mitchie and announcing, "I'm going to bed, goodnight."

"Goodnight," Mitchie responded.

"Goodnight, m'lady," the maid echoed. When the door to Tess's bedroom closed, Lola bent to pick up the scattered sheets of paper. "Thank you, Miss," she said as Mitchie handed her the last few sheets, "for sticking up for me."

"You're welcome," Mitchie said, returning the maid's shy smile. "If I might ask, are those letters from your sweetheart?"

Lola turned red all over again. "Well, Miss, there're actually two letters. One's from a freed man named Barron and the other is a slave on a plantation down in Florida named Sander. They each learned to read and write, so they write to me once a year and cram as much as they can into one letter." She smiled up at Mitchie shyly. "Trouble is, I can't decide which one to pick."

Mitchie smiled. "Every girl's dream," she told Lola, "to have too many men mooning after her and not know what to do with them all." She winked at Lola. "I'm sure your fairytale will have a happy ending. Goodnight, Lola."

"Goodnight, Miss Torres," Lola said. "May you have the same kind of luck in your ending," she whispered as Mitchie's door closed with a click.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! A shoutout goes out to both Kacee and xxlovely who have reviewed each chapter and have kept me going. Thanks both of you!  
**


	9. Dreams

**This is Prompt 42-Dreams**

Mitchie slowly undressed, hanging up her dress and climbing into bed as though she was in a dream. Her mind was completely focused on Mr. Shane Grey, a fairytale of her own. She smiled and stared up at the ceiling, remembering the way he had burst through the door, a look of anger in his eyes. She remembered that way he and the Frenchman had fought, and how all she could think of at the moment was his safety.

"And then the dance," she whispered to herself, pulling the covers up to her chin and gripping them tightly in rapture as she remembered the way he had held her that night, the way they had danced together as though they had been practicing their whole life.

"And the walk," she added, twisting around so that she was lying on her side, still holding the covers to her chin. She could remember the way they had walked side by side, easily matching each other's pace with no apparent effort. The way he had guided her onto the balcony, his hand resting lightly on Mitchie's back, made her smile even now. She could even make herself believe that she could still feel his hand there, even now.

"That's silly," she said, twisting so that she could press her flushing face into the fabric of her pillow. Why was one man, a young man that she had only known for a couple of hours, commanding such a block of her mind? Mitchie tossed and turned, refusing to even think about the answer she knew to be true.

Finally, she threw back the covers and rose to walk to the window. Sitting down on the window seat, Mitchie drew her robe around her and gazed out over France. There were still many lights all over the city, but there were decidedly fewer than there had been, and the sight of those last few lights was enough to make Mitchie smile. "Hope in the darkness," she whispered, pressing one hand to the glass in front of her. The lights meant more to her than just flaming balls in lanterns, they truly meant hope.

The whispers of war amongst the people of her fair nation worried Mitchie. Many people wanted freedom for the slaves, but many people did not. The south claimed that the slaves were not human beings because they were not as intelligent, and not as fair of skin, as the rest of the population. Mitchie knew that those in the north, the ones who opposed slavery, were right, but it was dangerous for her to side with them when she and her family lived in the south.

She glanced back out the window and wished that there might not be a war. Perhaps everything could be worked out over a meeting and a few cups of hot tea? With that thought, Mitchie remembered what Shane had said. "It doesn't hurt anyone to dream, now does it?"

"No," she said to herself. "It doesn't indeed."

She glanced back out over the parts of France that she could see, but her mind was no longer on the war, or the lights of the city. It was on the man she had met and felt drawn to. She knew why she felt this way, even though she had tried not to think about the answer, it had pushed and poked its way to the front of her mind, refusing to be shut out. Finally, the pressure was so great, the words practically forming themselves on her lips, that Mitchie spoke aloud the reason for her feelings, the reason he was the only subject that was staying on her mind.

"Because I'm in love with him." She bit her lip as soon as the words left her mouth. She really couldn't believe that she had such strong feelings for someone she had just met, but it was true, and there was no denying it. For the first time in her life, Mitchie had fallen in love.

With that declaration off her chest, and the window telling none of her secrets, Mitchie shed her robe and climbed back into bed, snuggling down into the covers as she drifted off the sleep. She knew that her dreams that night would be pleasant, for the only dream that she would even entertain would be about Shane Grey, her very lifelike dream from France.


	10. Travel

**This is Prompt No. 58-Travel**

"Have you got everything?" Tess asked Mitchie as the latter joined her at the breakfast table that Lola had set up the next morning.

"I think so," Mitchie said, sitting down across the table from her friend. She winked conspiratorially at Lola when Tess wasn't looking and proceeded to butter her toast. That being done, Mitchie poured herself a cup of tea and stirred one spoon of sugar into the cup, trying not to let the spoon clank against the sides of the china.

"I'm so glad I'm going back to England today," Tess said with a sigh of relief. "I didn't realize how much I missed it until I received a letter from Peggy." Peggy, of course, was Tess's kind, gentle maid in waiting who often sent her letters on the progress of the household while she was out.

"Is all going well?" Mitchie asked, knowing that protocol demanded her to be polite.

"Yes," Tess responded, taking a sip from her teacup. "She and Ella have everything under control." Ella was the other maid in waiting and was rather a simpleton, but was sweet and kind all the same.

"I'm glad to hear it," Mitchie said, "I am also looking forward to going home."

"Are you sure that I can't send an escort with you?" Tess asked worriedly. "It's rather disgraceful to be travelling without someone to look after you."

Mitchie smiled at her friend and said, "Yet who was the one that wanted no escort while we visited France?"

"Humph!" Tess said, tossing her hair back behind her shoulders as far as it would go. It didn't get that far, for it was pinned up for travel, and she only succeeded in slapping herself in the face with the braided ends.

Mitchie hid her smile behind her teacup and said earnestly, "I do want to thank you for everything, Tess. This tour of Europe has been a wonderful experience for me." Mitchie didn't expound further. Better to let Tess think that she meant all the sights they had seen together instead of meaning Mr. Grey alone.

Tess smiled at her friend, all petulance gone as quickly as it had come. "It was rather wonderful, wasn't it?" she asked. "Of course you're welcome. I had fun as well. I'm just sorry it had to end."

Mitchie was just finishing her tea when Lola stepped into the room, bobbing into a well-practiced curtsy. "Your carriage is here, Miss," she told Mitchie. "Shall I send the driver up to collect your things?"

Mitchie nodded at Lola. "Yes, please," she said. "And thank you."

While the driver carried her trunks down, Mitchie gave Tess one last hug and said a quick, private goodbye to Lola, leaving once everything was secured on the top of the carriage. She didn't bother to look at Tess's window as the carriage drove away, for she knew that Tess wouldn't be standing there, ready to wave to her to see her off. No, Tess was probably still sitting in the same seat, only fussing about a different matter.

The drive to the wharf was rather short, and Mitchie didn't bother to get comfortable. She knew that her ship was waiting, so she sat forward, letting her body rock with the movements of the carriage as she watched the French scenery flash past. Sure enough, the carriage soon reached the docks and the driver offered to carry her luggage aboard, for which Mitchie was grateful. Once his task was complete, Mitchie thanked him and gave him an extra shilling as a generous thank you. She even raised her hand as a salutation before she boarded the ship. Thankfully, there was no one on the main deck, so Mitchie hastened to her cabin and began her transformation.

Off came her dress, petticoats, stockings, corset, and even her good shoes. Reaching into her trunk, she found the breeches, shirt, chest bindings, stockings and shoes that would transform her into a young man, and would therefore keep her protected on the ship as well as extinguish the need for a guardian. She bit her lip as she wriggled into the clothes, silently grateful that her brother's clothes fit her well. The chest bindings hid her small figure, and the hat that she swept her hair up into stayed in place with a couple of plain hairpins.

"Perfect," Mitchie murmured as she sized herself up in the mirror. Now, to test it out on actual people. She stepped out of her cabin, locking it behind her, and strode onto the deck, adopting a walk which she often used when she was by herself, and had seen her brother use many times. A swagger, it was called. She nodded politely to a middle aged man leaning over the rail and said, "Good day to you, sir."

"Aye," the man replied, making no move to doff his hat like he might have done if he had realized that the young lad standing in front of him was a young woman. "It sure is now that I'm heading home."

"And where is home, sir?" Mitchie asked, enjoying this familiarity she was able to display.

"In Virginia," the man replied. "What about you, son?"

A thrill went up Mitchie's spine as she heard his words, but she did not let her thrill touch her face. "Virginia for me, too," was all she said. "I'll be mighty glad to get home."

"Aye," the man agreed again, but his features hardened. "Right in time for the war."

The chill that ran up Mitchie's spine this time had nothing to do with excitement, and had everything to do with dread. "I certainly hope that it doesn't come to that," she said honestly.

"Me too, lad," the man agreed. "Me too."

They stayed that way for a long time, watching the waves roll by the moving ship. The sun was setting over the horizon when Mitchie finally stood up to go back inside. A smile touched her face as she realized that she was going home. Back to her mother, her father, Anna her maid, and Mitchell. Travelling, when travelling in the direction of home, was a wonderful thing indeed!


	11. Family

**This is Prompt No. 92-Family**

Three weeks after her sea voyage had begun, Mitchie found herself riding through the main gates of her family's plantation, eagerly drinking in all the familiar sights. With the sun setting behind it, the plantation looked like a picture. There, by the far fence, was the willow tree where she and Mitchell always had their private talks, and there was the large barn where the horses where kept. To the left were the fields of cotton, and the slaves straightened up from their backbreaking task to wave eagerly at the carriage.

"Missy's done come home!" someone called, and the hands whooped and cheered their praises. Still dressed in her breeches and shirt, Mitchie leaned out the window, waving madly at her friends as she passed them. The driver drove the carriage right up to the front porch of the large plantation house and Mitchie dropped out of the compartment, eager to see her family.

"So that's where my old outfit went," said a voice behind her.

Mitchie found a young man, slightly taller than she, leaning casually against one of the porch posts and trying to look stern, and failing miserably at it. "Mitchell!" she cried, launching herself at her brother, older by only twenty-two minutes, and giving him and tight, lengthy hug. "I've missed you so much!" she cried.

"Me too," he replied a little breathlessly, "but I can't breathe, Mitchie."

"Oh!" Mitchie exclaimed, embarrassed, as she let go. "Sorry about that. I guess I got a little carried away."

"Is that my little girl under Mitchell's dirty clothes?" Mitchie's father asked, stepping out onto the porch with his wife in tow.

"Daddy!" Mitchie cried, once again flinging and hugging. She did the same for her mom, who hugged her tightly and then gently pushed her away, wiping at imaginary dust smudges on her dress.

"I'm not entirely sure that I approve of that outfit you're wearing," Connie Torres told her daughter.

"Honestly, neither do I," Mitchie said, lying. "But, it's very useful when you're travelling by yourself and you don't want other men on the ship to recognize you as a young lady."

"She has a point," her father pointed out, affectionately stroking his daughter's cheek.

"Well," her mother said hesitantly. "I suppose we won't mention it if you get right inside and change."

Mitchie shot her brother an amused look and replied obediently, "Yes, mother." She gave the two men another hug and kissed her mother on the cheek before heading into the house. As soon as she was out of her mom's line of sight, Mitchie used her freedom from skirts to dash up the stairs to her second story bedroom and fling open the door. Just as she suspected, there stood Anna, her maid, waiting in the middle of the room, her eyes shining with pleasure.

"Anna!" Mitchie squealed, flinging herself into the maid's eager arms. "I've missed you so!"

Anna hugged Mitchie back. "As have I," she said excitedly. "Was Europe as much fun as you anticipated?"

Mitchie rolled her eyes. "It was a total bore, except for France." The glint in her eyes told her friend that there was much more to the story that she had to tell.

Anna pulled Mitchie over to the canopy bed that occupied the middle of Mitchie's room and said, "Now tell me."

Mitchie sat down, smiling at the familiarity that Anna used with her. On the outside, they played their prospective parts. Mitchie played the mistress and Anna played the maid, but on the inside, they were close, secret friends. The only other person that knew about their relationship was Mitchell, and he didn't have a problem with it. In fact, he approved, for Anna was his secret beau. He and she had already been making plans to marry, somehow, some way, but it was easier dreamed than done. Their whole backgrounds where their obstacles, and the state they lived in was the mountain they had to scale.

"Well," Mitchie said, leaning toward Anna excitedly. "I met a young man in France," she began, and told the whole story, leaving nothing out. She told Anna everything, including Shane's name, which she had left out when she had told Tess.

"He sounds wonderful," Anna commented afterwards. "And both Mitchell and I will be forever grateful to him that he saved you from that wretched man."

"Indeed," Mitchie agreed.

Rising, in complete authority now, Anna gave a tug at Mitchie's sleeve. "Come now," she said. "It's time for a bath and then time for bed. "You've had a long day."

"Anna," Mitchie protested. "I can get my own bath."

Anna smiled and said, "I know, but this is a special occasion, and so I'll actually do what your mother and father think I'm doing." She laughed and said, "You take a bath now and I'll get your dinner tray brought up. It's a bit late for it, but Lucy won't mind cooking something extra for you."

With that, Anna drew the bath and then disappeared downstairs while Mitchie sank into her hot bath, grinning at the feeling of the hot water relaxing every one of her muscles. Yes, she was glad to be home, she thought. She had a family that loved her well enough, a brother whom she adored and likewise, and a maid who was her best friend. What more could she want?

Unfortunately, she knew the answer to that. She wanted her parents to free their slaves. She wanted Anna to marry Mitchell with no impending problems of ethnicity. She wanted there to be no war. And because she was in love with him, she wanted Shane to be here with her. But none of that was going to happen, and Mitchie had a feeling that it wouldn't happen for a very long time, if ever.

**A/N: Well? Please review and tell me what you think!**


	12. Explode

**This is Prompt No.69-Explode**

Mitchie opened her eyes slowly, blinking as she looked around, slightly disoriented. After three weeks on a ship, she was not quite used to fine sheets and fluffy pillows once again. She took a moment to look around, remembering that she was back home in Virginia, and smiled. She stretched, raising her hands above her head until they touched to bed frame above her head and letting out a content sigh.

"Good," someone said. "You're awake."

Mitchie turned her head to the side and saw Anna sitting in the rocking chair next to the fire, her knitting needles flying at a clipped pace. "Morning," she said lazily, causing Anna to smile.

"Morning," she replied, "was over two hours ago."

Mitchie sat up in bed. "What?" she cried, surprised. She looked at the shutters that covered her window and saw that they were closed, but that warm sunlight did indeed peek through the cracks. "Oh my gosh!" she cried, jumping out of bed, all sleepiness replaced by embarrassment.

Mitchie ran around the room, looking for her clothes until Anna put an affectionate hand on her arm and stopped her. "A suitable dress is hanging up over there, along with everything else you need, your brother wants to speak with you when you wake up, and your mother's having that terrible Mrs. Prindle over for tea in two hours." Anna made a face as she handed Mitchie a comb. "She expects you to be there as well."

Mitchie smiled at her friend, thankful that she had someone to fill her in on the day's activities before they were even to begin. "Thank you, Anna," she said, giving her friend a long hug before hurrying over to her vast wardrobe where Anna had gathered all the accessories necessary. "Is this new?" Mitchie asked, holding up the dress in question at arm's length.

Anna nodded with a smile on her face. "It's from your father to welcome you home," she answered, obviously pleased. "He asked me what you might like."

Mitchie looked over the beautiful dress at her friend and raised her eyebrows. "Really?" she asked.

Anna nodded. "I hope you like it."

Mitchie glanced back at the beautiful fabric, a soft burgundy color and smiled at her friend. "I love it. Thank you!" She hurried to get dressed, letting Anna help her with her corset, and then put on her favorite pair of shoes. "Thanks," she said to Anna once again. "I'd better go find my brother now."

Anna smiled and began tidying the room. "Try Mr. Torres' study. Tell Mitchell I say hi," she said, blushing slightly.

Mitchie smiled back at her. "I will," she promised and shut the door to her room. She walked to the end of the hallway and started down the staircase. Turning to her left at the bottom, she slipped past her mother's dayroom, hoping not to have to talk with her for a while, and headed toward her father's study.

The smile faded when she reached the end of the hall and heard raised, angry voices. "I will not have it!" her father boomed, and voice caused the door to shake for a moment, rattling on its hinges. Mitchie hoped that whoever he was talking to, it wasn't her brother. The speaker dashed her hopes, though, by announcing, "You're a disgrace to your mother, to me, and to your sister, Mitchell! Why will you not join if there's to be a war?"

Mitchie found herself edging toward the door, half hoping and half dreading that Mitchell would tell their father about his relationship with Anna. "Oh Mitchell," she whispered, knowing that her sweet brother was probably using this time of silence to control the anger he was feeling.

"Because I don't support your cause," came Mitchell's voice, he tone deadly low and controlled, daring his father to respond.

"What?!" his father exploded, his booming voice rattling the door even more this time. Mitchie shrank away from the door, the anger she was hearing frightening her. "Why not?"

"Because I think that slavery is wrong!" Mitchell shouted back, and Mitchie realized that he was reaching the end of his self control. Mitchell, under normal circumstances, would never raise his voice to his father, and their argument must have been going on for a while for him to be so angry. "I'll not fight for something I don't believe in!"

"You mark my words," Mr. Torres shouted, "I'll send you to serve yet! They'll come and collect you one day without warning if I have my way with this!"

Mitchie gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. "No," she whispered. She stood, not wanting to hear anymore, and fled, not caring if her mother saw her. She lifted her skirts up to her knees so that she could run up the stairs, her feet pounding down the hallway as she ran into her room. Kneeling by the side of her bed, Mitchie felt around for the item she wanted.

"Where are you?" she muttered, fear causing her to move at a frenzied pace. Her fingers found what she wanted, and she gave a tug, freeing the small box. Mitchie pulled it out, hurriedly wrenching the lid off and grabbing the small, leather bound book inside.

She took the steps two at a time, almost tripping over her skirts as she reached the bottom floor and wrenched the front door open. Her skirts flew and billowed around her as she ran across the property towards the willow tree. The distance made her lungs ache, and her chest heaved under the exertion, but she kept running, not stopping until she collapsed against the trunk of the tree, sobs tearing at her throat. Tears stung her eyes and splattered on her dress as she clutched the leather journal to her chest, once again glad for the comfort and seclusion that the willow tree provided. Its boughs concealed her trembling figure to any onlookers, affording her privacy while she opened her journal and began to write.

The feelings she had kept in her heart for so long needed to be written down on paper so that the whole world might know.


	13. Journal

**This is Prompt No. 70-Journal**

_There are some things that people deem too important, or are too sacred to share, and these things I'm writing down right now could be quite at home in either of these categories._ Mitchie paused for a moment in her writing and bit the tip of her pen, making sure to get none of the ink on her lips. Where, in the complicated mess of things, should she begin?

"At the beginning," she said aloud, her voice sounding harsh and hoarse to her own ears from the crying she had been doing.

_My father bought Anna for me when I was thirteen. He deemed her a "good" present for a young lady to have, and seemed unsure as to why I wasn't jumping up and down with glee. The reason is, and has been for years, that I hate slavery. There, I have written it and it cannot be taken back, for ink is forever permanent. I absolutely loath slavery and everything that comes with it. I hate seeing people beaten and bruised and ordered around as if they had no feelings. My parents do not seem to realize that our slaves are people too._

_Yes, our servants are treated in a slightly kinder way than others' slaves, but the principle is still the same: one man owning another because he can and the law deems it acceptable. Well, I am sick of it. Perhaps that is why Anna has always been my friend and not my slave. I've taught her how to read, to write, to speak properly, and also how to be at ease around me. We are equals, she and I, and I would not have it any other way._

_My brother as well thinks that slavery is wrong, and that it should be abolished. He refuses to join in the army, for he doesn't believe in the cause he would be fighting for. Some might say that he is a coward, but I say that I look at him as my role model for being so brave as to refuse to do the brave thing because he knows that it is foolish. If I did not love my father, and my mother I suppose, as much as I do, I think that I would move up to the north and do all I could for the cause up there. I am now eighteen, and I am fearful that my father shall have me marry some young, idiotic Virginian who will want to fight for slavery, leaving me torn between my country and my duties as a wife._

_But my real fear is that something will happen to my brother, my dear, sweet brother. Father has threatened him. I've heard it today with my own ears, and I fear for my brother. I fear for what my father will do. Would he really enlist Mitchell in the army without giving him any warning, or was that just the rant of anger that can be brushed off without much thought? For once, I fear for the worst. Mitchell has always said that I take the high road in life. He's told me many times that I could find the sun on a rainy day, but this time, I am searching for a thundercloud. I fear for the worst, and for once, I am afraid._

Mitchie sat back, having finished her entry, and leaned her head against the trunk of the willow tree. Well, now that that was done, there was nothing more to be said. She propped her pen in her ink well and leaned the bottle against one root of the tree so that it wouldn't tip over. Just as she was ready to recline again, she heard a sound behind her and turned.

Standing there, one hand brushing away the willow tree's curtain of branches, stood Mitchell, his face flushed and bashful-looking. "I thought I'd find you here," he said quietly.

Mitchie smiled at her brother and patted the grass next to her, indicating that she wanted him to come and sit down with her. "You found me," she responded.

Mitchell sat down next to her and commented, "I didn't realize that shouting affected you so."

Mitchie looked up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, the whole household heard you running up and down the stairs, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the front door still on its hinges when I decided to come after you."

Mitchie ducked her head, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight, I guess."

Mitchell glanced at her, trying to read his sister's expression. "You guess?" he asked.

Mitchie bit her lip. "I hate it when you raise your voice. I know that when you do, you're really angry, and I just hate it when you're angry."

"You sure do have a lot of hate in you for being such a tiny thing," Mitchell teased. Mitchie hit him playfully in the arm and he pulled her closer so that he could rest his chin on her head while she snuggled into his chest. "I do thank you for being so protective of me, though," he told her seriously. "What would I do without you?"

"I don't think you could live without me," Mitchie teased him.

He laughed, but grew sober faster than Mitchie had hoped. "You're right," he said. "Which is why I want you to come with Anna and I when we leave for the north."

Mitchie jerked away from him so that she could see his face. "Are you serious?" she asked. "You're leaving?"

Mitchell nodded. "The talk today with father has proven to me that he would never let me marry Anna. She and I want to be married as soon as possible, and we can't do that here. We've talked about it, and we want to go up north, but only if you'll come too."

"But," Mitchie protested, "Anna belongs to father."

"Only in part," Mitchell told her. "When he went away on business, I looked through each of the files and found that he has signed his section of Anna's document. The only other signature she needs to be completely free is yours."

Mitchie's eyes widened. "Why wasn't I told about this?" she cried. "I would've freed Anna the day father gave her to me!"

"I know," Mitchell said, hoping to calm her. "And Anna knows that. But father didn't want to give you that chance. Anyways, we want to go as soon as possible. Will you come with us?"

Mitchie's head was spinning, and her heart was crying out, _"Yes, but there must be some other way than running away!"_ "Give me a chance to think about it," she begged. "Just give me a little bit of time."

"Of course," Mitchell said, rising. "I'm glad we talked, but unfortunately, I was also sent out here to get you to come in. That awful Mrs. Prindle will be here any moment and mother wants you."

"When can we leave for the north?" Mitchie joked, dreading the gossipy, crotchety lady that her mother kept company with.

"Not soon enough to be rid of Mrs. Prickly Prindle, I'm afraid," Mitchell admitted with a smile. "I'll walk you as far as the front door, but I'm not coming in. I don't want to get dragged into another discussion on which lady's fashion I liked best at church like last time."

Mitchie giggled. "Chicken," she teased, but couldn't really blame him.

They walked together in silence after that, making their way back to the plantation house. Mitchie's mind was whirling with the newfound information. Yes, she needed time to think, but she also needed time to plan. She needed time to concoct a plan that would let them leave without being considered cowards. She needed time for a really, really good plan.

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Elle. Thanks for your review, and as you can see, I updated just liked you asked! :D**


	14. Vanity

**This is Prompt No. 67-Vanity**

Mitchie, safely delivered into the lion's den by her brother, crept into her mother's tearoom, steeling herself against the lecture she was sure to get. "A fine Virginia gentlewoman" was an important goal her mother had for her, and Mitchie was absolutely positive that none of a "fine Virginia gentlewoman's" qualities consisted of running up and down stairs or banging doors. She found her mother facing the window that looked out over the front of the house and winced, knowing that her mother would have seen her return.

"Come in," her mother said without turning around.

Mitchie slunk into the room, grateful that her mother wasn't looking, for her posture would then become another topic of lecture, and Mitchie did not feel ready at that moment to be lectured or ridiculed. "Mother, I can explain," she began, but got no further.

"You need not explain, Michelle," her mother said calmly, turning around then to glance over her daughter's appearance, no doubt making sure that it was suitable for company. "It's rather unsettling to hear shouting in a house that is usually so quiet."

Mitchie's eyes widened. "Oh," she said weakly, not quite believing that those few words were the extent of what her mother had to say to her.

"Come and sit," her mother instructed, indicating the divan she sat on. "Our guest will be here shortly." She glanced up at the clock. "Any minute now, actually."

Mitchie resisted the urge to slouch in dread as she seated herself next to her mother. Virginian protocol demanded that she was now old enough to help entertain guests, and for the most part, she rather liked visiting and chatting with the ladies of the neighborhood, but Mrs. Prindle was a completely different case entirely. The Virginian gossiper was the nosiest, rudest woman in the district, in Mitchie's opinion, and her only reason for calling on people was to give and get gossip.

A rap at the door startled Mitchie out of her thoughts and she instinctively rose to get the door, which was only a few steps away from the room she was in. "Sit, Michelle, if you please," her mother commanded, her tone hard. "Anna can get the door. That's why we have servants."

Mitchie bit her tongue and sat back down on the divan, discreetly scooting further away from her mother. Anna came tearing down the stairs, trying to reach the door in time so that the visitor might not leave before she could get to the door. _"Oh take all the time you need, dear Anna,"_ Mitchie thought, but she knew that it was Anna's duty to answer the door quickly.

"Mrs. Prindle, if you please, ma'am," Anna said as she showed Mrs. Prindle into the tearoom, making a face behind the woman's back that only Mitchie could see.

"Delia," Connie Torres said happily, rising from her seat on the divan to shake her friend's hand. "So nice to see you again. May I take your coat?"

Delia Prindle nodded and removed her coat, revealing a hideous dress underneath that had so many bright colors that Mitchie wanted to cover her eyes. "Thank you, darling," she said in her patronizing tone, handing the coat to Mitchie's mother.

"Here, girl," Connie said, flinging the coat at Anna, who caught it and bobbed an exit, making another face over her shoulder. Mitchie knew exactly what the look meant: So much for taking her coat!

"Michelle!" Mrs. Prindle exclaimed, turning her fierce, gossipy eyes on Mitchie. "I see you've returned alright from your tour of Europe. I told your mother that I was sure you'd fall into the ocean if you went on a ship, seeing as how clumsy you are, but she assured me that you'd be alright." Mrs. Prindle cast a glance at Connie. "It seems she was right." The tone in which she said it seemed to indicate that such a feat was a rarity.

"Yes, thank you," Mitchie said politely. "I-"

"But you do look pale," Mrs. Prindle said, cutting her off. "Did you eat properly?" Mitchie started to respond, but once again, Mrs. Prindle cut her off. "Young people never eat properly these days," she told Connie as though Mitchie wasn't sitting there anymore. "They always want to eat the rich, unhealthy food."

"Quite right," Connie replied, passing Mrs. Prindle the tray of tea sandwiches Lucy, the cook, had prepared.

"Do you like my outfit?" Mrs. Prindle asked, setting down her cup and standing to twirl around so that the two ladies seated could get a fuller glimpse of the hideous ensemble.

"It's beautiful," Connie complimented. "Wherever did you get it?"

"I ordered it from Europe," Mrs. Prindle boasted proudly. She turned to look severely at Mitchie. "What do you think? Did you ever see anything like this in Europe?"

"_Great. Now she asks my opinion,"_ thought Mitchie, but she replied diplomatically and said, "No, I can safely say that I've never seen anything like it."

Thankfully, the context of the statement went over the woman's head and she continued speaking to Mitchie's mother. "It's the latest fashion," she sad proudly.

"Is it?" Mitchie's mother asked, sounding impressed.

"Yes," Mrs. Prindle replied with glee, twirling around once more.

Mitchie was trying very hard not to show her disgust. Mrs. Delia Prindle was by far the most vain person she had ever met! She tried to look elsewhere, but the horrid dress was etched in her mind, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. She _really_ disliked Delia Prindle and her unneeded horror images.

"Now," Delia prindle said, settling herself on the chair across from the divan. "I was just over at the Tucker's, and you'll never guess what Grace Tucker told me!" The glee in her voice made Mitchie slightly sick.

"Tell me," Connie said, sitting forward as though her whole life depended on whatever tidbit of gossip Delia Prindle might spread this time.

Mitchie tried not to groan as Mrs. Prindle started her story. This was going to be a _very_ long day.

**A/N: Please tell me what you think! Hope you liked it! :D**


	15. Plan

**This is Prompt No.87-Plan**

That night, with her mind sufficiently dulled by Delia Prindle's visit, Mitchie lay in bed with her hands behind her head, with no intention of sleeping. She was rapidly trying to revive her dead brain cells so that she could think clearly. She turned her head and saw that Anna was already asleep, curled up on the pile of blankets she used as a bed. Perfect. She could think aloud now, if she could think at all thanks to her gossipy neighbor.

"This is serious," she whispered to herself, trying to keep quiet enough not to wake Anna. "I really have to think."

For three hours, she lay in bed, her mind sifting through all sorts of different plans that were perfect in theory, flawed in reality. None of them would ever work unless life became a fairytale, and that wasn't about to happen any time soon. Mitchie rolled over onto her left side, staring at the fire that was slowly dying away in the fireplace. Just as quickly as it was burning down, so were Mitchie's hopes. Was there nothing that could be done?

There was a slight, almost imperceptible tap on the door and Mitchie jumped, startled. She frowned and climbed out of bed, hurrying to the door and opening it as silently as possible. There, standing fully clothed, was her brother, his face pained and drawn. "Mitchell!" she gasped.

He quickly whispered, "Not here. Can you meet me outside under the willow tree?"

Mitchie nodded. "I'll be right there," she said softly and closed the door once again so that she could find her robe and a sturdy pair of shoes.

She found the house once again quiet, but the sight of her brother's face had uncovered the tension that had been lurking around the house. Lightly, Mitchie slipped out of the house, putting her shoes on when she stepped out onto the porch, and headed in the direction of the willow tree. When she finally reached the spot, she saw Mitchell's outline propped up against the tree. "Mitchell," she said seriously, sitting down in front of him. "What's happened?"

Mitchell didn't respond at first. He instead said, "I was happy to see that you were awake. I really needed someone to talk to."

"Of course," Mitchie said. "I'm always here for you."

Mitchell smiled, even though he knew that his sister wouldn't see it, and said, "I know."

The sadness in his voice frightened Mitchie and she said, "Mitchell, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"You remember when Jefferson Davis formed the Confederate States of America?" Mitchell asked, not answering the question directly.

Mitchie remembered. He had formed the Confederation in order to help states that wanted to keep slavery lawful secede from the Union. "It was over a month ago, in February, right?"

Mitchell nodded. "February 9th to be exact," he said softly. "Dad was so excited, yet he feared for what might happen to Virginia. Now, Lincoln's about to be sworn into office, and I'm afraid that war will break out." He paused. "Father has enlisted me."

"No!" cried Mitchie, jumping up from where she sat. "He can't!"

Mitchell ignored his sister's cries and went on to state the facts. "He can, and he did. He even sent me into a different division where I know absolutely no one. He thought that if I were with my friends, they might help me escape the war."

Mitchie turned towards him and said, "I'll go with you. I don't care if it looks like we're running away. I'll go with you and Anna. We can leave tonight and be safely on our way, and father would have no control over that."

Mitchell smiled into the darkness and felt for her hand so that he could pull her down next to him. "My sweet sister," he said lovingly. "Always so protective of me." He kissed the top of Mitchie's head and said, "We won't be able to go now."

"What?" Mitchie asked. "Why not?"

"Because I'm enlisted," Mitchell reiterated. "If I disappear while I'm under their service, they'll hunt me down and shoot me for desertion." He sighed and pulled her close. "What I was trying to tell you was that I'm going to be here for a very long time. Perhaps until I die. If you still want to go up north with Anna, I'll help you both as much as I can to get there, but I have to stay here."

Mitchie broke out into sobs, and Mitchell joined her, holding her close in the dark hours of the night as they shared a burden that no one else knew about. Soon, Mitchie pulled away from her brother and said, "If it's alright with you, I'd like some time alone."

Mitchell nodded and stood, careful not to step on her in the darkness. "Sure," he said. "I'll be in the house. Make sure that you get back before anyone misses you."

Mitchie nodded and hugged her brother hard. "I love you," she said, holding him tightly.

He returned the hug and whispered in her ear, "I love you too, sis." And then, he was gone, a tall figure against the night, walking towards the house with his shoulders slumped in dejection. The sight would be forever imprinted on Mitchie's mind as she turned to sit back down against the tree.

"Why?" she cried aloud, knowing that no one would be able to hear her. "Why him?" She began crying again, the tears streaming down her cheeks so quickly that she couldn't wipe them away.

When she was finally able to settle herself a little, Mitchie leaned her forehead against the tree and whispered, "I wish I could take his place." Almost instantly, her eyes popped open in surprise and her mouth fell open. Image after image flew through her mind, and soon, Mitchie began to smile. That was it! She would take Mitchell's place until the fighting began, then she would somehow fall ill and be sent home unable to serve. Since he was in a different division, no one would know that she was not Mitchell Torres. Mitchell and Anna would be free to disappear up in the north, and all would be well.

"Perfect," she whispered and stood to walk back to the house when the only flaw in her plan hit her full force.

She would have to convince Mitchell to let her go.

**A/N: That should be a fun conversation! :D Please let me know what you think!**


	16. Breakfast

**This is Prompt No. 84-Breakfast**

Mitchie dressed carefully, pulling at her collar. "I think it's choking me," she said to Anna as her friend buttoned up the back of her dress.

Anna rolled her eyes. "It's not choking you. It looks perfectly fine. You're just worried, and so everything around you feels tight."

Mitchie turned around to smile at her friend. "Wow. I should ask your opinion more often," she said. "Then I'd know what's going on inside my head."

Anna smiled. "That one's easy," she said softly. "You're trying to do the right thing for Mitchell and I, but you're worried about what's going to happen in the future. You're worried that your plan might not work, and I think you're worried that Mitchell will change his mind."

Mitchie pointed her finger at Anna teasingly. "Mitchell is definitely my biggest problem," she said and slipped out of the room to head downstairs for breakfast.

She found Mitchell waiting at the top of the stairs for her and immediately tensed. After a month of arguments with him to get him to go along with her plan, was he suddenly going to back out? She would soon find out. "Good morning, Mitchell," she said politely, and rather stiffly.

Mitchell looked haggard, and Mitchie could guess that he hadn't slept last night due to all his worrying. Yesterday, April 17th, Virginia had seceded from the Union, and war was now inevitable. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked in a whisper. "You don't have to. We can call the whole plan off right now and no one would blame us."

Mitchie looked evenly at her brother, so protective of her, and said, "I would blame myself." With that, she swept down the stairs, heading towards the dining room. She heard Mitchell sigh and hurry after her, knowing that everything had to be perfect for this plan to work.

They found their parents already seated, and they each took their spots across from each other, bidding their parents good morning as they sat. "How are you, father?" Mitchie asked innocently.

Her father took a sip of his tea and nodded to her in response. "Fine, thank you."

"Good," Mitchie responded, helping herself to a piece of toast. She must wait, she realized. She must wait until the absolutely best moment she could find.

Her father looked up from where his newspaper was strewn out across his spot at the table and remarked to no one in particular, "It seems that the south is becoming a dangerous place to live."

Mitchie felt a nudge at her shin from under the table and knew without looking up that it was Mitchell, signaling that she should make her request. Well, it was now or never. "I quite agree," she said, startling both of her parents, who had not been expecting any sort of reply. "Do you remember that boarding school that you've been wanting to send me to?"

Mr. and Mrs. Torres exchanged glances, wondering where this question was heading, but Mr. Torres nodded and said, "Yes, we do. Go on."

"I'd like to go," Mitchie said bluntly.

Mrs. Torres frowned. "But you didn't want to go before!" she protested.

"Well," Mitchie said, adopting her most charming expression, "I've had a change of heart. I'd like to go, and I'd like to take Anna with me."

Mitchie waited, looking back and forth from one parent to the other and trying not to look desperate. It seemed to take a very long time for her father to say, "Very well, I suppose you can go. Perhaps the north will be a safer place for you right now since the war will be beginning soon." He actually smiled. "Yes, I think that's an excellent idea, my darling."

Mitchie clapped her hands delightedly. "I'm so glad you like it. I'd like to leave in a week."

This brought silence to the table. Mitchie's hands clenched in fists under the table and her heart started beating wildly. Would they let her go at such a strange time of the year? Could the plan really work? She felt herself tense as her father scanned her face, apparently looking for any indication as to why she would want to go at such a strange time of the year.

"If that's what you want," he said after a long pause. "I don't see why not." He set his paper down on the table and stood up, brushing off his vest. "I'll get in touch with the school and in a week, you'll be off."

"Along with Anna, right, Father?" Mitchie prompted, making absolutely sure that Anna would go with her.

Her father smiled. "Of course! What's a lady without her ladies maid?" He kissed the top of Mitchie's head and then left the room, heading to his study.

Mitchie and Mitchell soon excused themselves from the breakfast table and headed back up the stairs. They walked in absolute silence, their joined hands the only source of contact between them. As Mitchie pushed open the door to her room, she found Anna standing there in the middle of the room, her hands nervously twisting back and forth. She looked from one person to the other before she finally asked, "Well?"

Mitchie broke into a huge smile, feeling the tension and fear evaporating now that it was all over. "We leave in a week," was her only response before Anna was launching herself at Mitchie, hugging her and trying hard not to cry.

The three friends held each other for a long time before Mitchie turned to her brother, wiping the tears from her eyes and teased, "Well that was the most interesting breakfast the Torres family has ever had!"

**A/N: Well, the plan is in action! Mickeyhagg, Shane's chapter is coming in just a couple more chapters! **


	17. Choices

**This is Prompt No. 83-Choices**

The night before she and Anna were scheduled to leave for the north, Mitchie lay in bed, tossing and turning. She knew that Anna had watched her for a long time, a sympathetic look on her face, but Mitchie didn't speak to her, and she finally rolled over with her back facing Mitchie and went to sleep. Mitchie knew that she couldn't back down from her offer now, but questions now haunted her mind, pulling her from the sleep she craved.

"_What if everything doesn't go as planned?"_ she wondered. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. Of course they would! What could go wrong now? Mitchie's trunks were packed, filled with Mitchell's clothes at the bottom and a couple of dresses she had picked out for Anna as a wedding present, and two dresses on the top to complete the deception that all the clothes were really hers. There was nothing that could go wrong there.

"_What if we don't make it out of Virginia?"_ she thought. Of course they would! She knew she was being silly, but it was rather calming to go over every aspect of their plan. She and Anna would leave in the carriage and travel to the edge of town where cotton fields stretched on for miles and no one could see the transformation. Mitchell would meet them there, he and Mitchie would switch places, and then Mitchie would head out to the training camps disguised as her brother. Then, Mitchell and Anna would safely travel to the north and settle somewhere safe, getting in touch with Mitchie somehow later.

"_What if someone recognizes me as a girl?"_ Mitchie wondered, and a new thought sent panic rippling down her spine. Her hair! Her hair was far too long to pass for a boy's. She reached up and fingered the silky locks that she had carefully braided before she went to bed. Mitchie realized that the only option was to cut her hair short. _"It'll grow back,"_ she reminded herself gallantly, trying not to think too much bout shearing off her tresses.

"_What will I do if they put me through drills?"_ Mitchie wondered, remembering back to what Mitchell had explained about the training camps. All they really taught was how to load and shoot a rifle and cannon. She could do that, couldn't she? After all, it wasn't like she was actually going to use it in battle, right?

"_How will I convince them that I'm sick?"_ Mitchie questioned herself, moving through her list of calming plans. Easy. She knew exactly where the small bottle of vile tasting liquid was that Anna had slipped into "Mitchell's" bag that would make her quite sick. After five days of fever and vomiting, it would wear off. By that time, Mitchie had guessed, the commanding officers would be tired of caring for her and would send her home.

_"Perfect,"_ she thought, and mentally went through her wardrobe in the hopes of putting herself to sleep, but even that could not help her relax and get to sleep.

Mitchie tossed and turned, trying very hard not to wake Anna up. Anna, she knew, would have a hard day tomorrow, and she didn't want to add to the mental stress of being kept up at night. She turned for a moment onto her side so that she could watch her friend sleep. It was slightly unerving to Mitchie that this would be the last night she would ever share a room with her friend. Soon, Anna would be a married woman, and Mitchie would probably be back at the plantation once again, the "repentant" daughter who had made such a tragically misguided mistake.

"Right," Mitchie muttered out loud, rolling her eyes. As if she would ever regret what she was doing for her best friend and her brother!

As she turned over, determined to get to sleep, Mitchie suddenly remembered something. A grin spread across her face and she pushed back the covers, climbing silently out of bed and slipping her robe on. She crept to the door and opened it as quietly as possible. As she looked back at Anna, still sound asleep next to the fireplace, Mitchie smiled again.

There was one last thing she was going to do before she left to become Mitchell Torres.

**A/N: Comments? Please? :D**


	18. Freedom

**This is Prompt No. 12-Freedom**

The house seemed to creak and moan loudly with every step that Mitchie took, but she realized that every sound seemed amplified because of her tension as she crept down the stairs and made her way down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she crept past her parent's bedroom, wincing as a board protested slightly as she stepped on it. She stopped for a moment, waiting to see if she had roused either of her parents. A loud snore met her straining ears, and she was reassured that no harm had been done.

Creeping down the hall, Mitchie finally reached her father's study and began the task of sliding the door open as soundlessly as possible. The door slid open easily and Mitchie slipped inside, shutting it just as carefully as she had opened it. Turning around, she found the large study empty and rather cold. Mitchie rubbed her hands over her arms in an effort to warm herself up, but the action didn't help much.

"If I were a document, where would I hide?" she mused out loud, striding over to the desk, being careful to only step on the rugs that littered the floor so that her bare feet would not have to touch the cold floor.

And so began the process of riffling through her father's documents, drawers, and confidential files. Mitchie would open one drawer and take out everything, placing it on top of the desk just the way she had found it in the drawer, look through it, and then put them all back as though they had never been moved. Then, she would move over to the next drawer and the process would begin all over again. Look around, take the papers out, put them all back the way she had found them, and repeat.

After two hours, Mitchie was beginning to lose heart. She sat down behind her father's desk and placed her chin in her hands. It should _not_ have been this hard to find one sheet of paper! But apparently, it was. She let out a low groan and stomped her foot. In doing so, she banged her knee against the underside of the desk, which emitted a loud thump from the contact.

Mitchie froze, worried that the sound would have awakened someone, but the house was still. She reached down to rub her now-bruised knee and felt a piece of wood stinking down from the underside of the desk. "Great," she muttered practically under her breath. "Now I break father's desk."

But when she actually scooted the chair back a ways and leaned down to get a good look at the damage she had caused, she was met with a very pleasant, and welcome, surprise. She had not broken the desk at all, but had uncovered a secret drawer. Mitchie's heart pounded as she looked through the small compilation of papers, a huge grin spreading across her face as she found what she was looking for at the very bottom: Anna's contract that bound her as a slave to the Torres household.

With a deft hand, Mitchie picked up her father's pen and signed her name in fluid, deliberate letters and added the date on which she signed it. "There," she whispered as she looked at the document with satisfaction. Her smile fell for one moment as her eyes took in the sure, almost arrogant signature of her father, dated almost six years ago and wondered why he had bothered to sign the document at all.

With a shrug that was more a way to brush off the questions in her mind than anything else, Mitchie slipped the contract into her robe and headed towards the door. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure that everything was back in the exact place she had found it in, and then she slipped out into the hallway.

No sooner had she closed the door and started down the hallway than the door to her parents' bedroom opened and her father stepped out, looking sleepy and rather confused. Mitchie froze mid-step, her heart pounding against her ribs as she watched her father's gaze swing toward her.

"Michelle?" he questioned sleepily.

Mitchie's mind was whirling furiously as she tried to think up a plausible excuse. What _did_ one say at two o' clock in the morning? _"Oh, I was just going through all your papers in your study, that's all. Go on back to sleep."_ For some reason, Mitchie doubted that even in his sleepy stupor her father would fall for that excuse.

"Yes, daddy," she said, adopting her daddy's-little-girl posture and attitude.

He rubbed his eyes, as though not quite believing that she was really standing there in the middle of the early morning. "What are you doing down here?" he asked.

Mitchie shrugged and said, "I couldn't sleep, and then I got really thirsty so I came down to get some water." As soon as she said it, Mitchie winced, realizing that she'd made a mistake.

Her father frowned. "The kitchen's on the other side of the house," he told her.

"Yes," Mitchie said, covering quickly, "but I thought I heard someone down the hall and I came to check." She smiled brightly, hoping that her smile would be able to charm her out of this situation. "But I didn't find anyone, so now I'm going back to bed. I'm tired."

Her father was still looking at her, puzzled. "Very well," he said slowly. "I should get back to bed as well."

"Yes you should," Mitchie agreed, trying not to sound too eager. "Goodnight, daddy."

He was already walking back into his room and didn't answer her. Mitchie smiled, not feeling at all shut out or ignored. She forced herself to climb back up the stairs, adopting a "tired" gait, and slipped back into her room, leaning back against the door when she had closed it completely.

"Where have you been?"

The voice startled Mitchie, already uptight, and she whirled to find Anna sitting up on her blankets, regarding her with curiosity and a little bit of fear. "Anna!" she gasped, placing a hand over her heart, which hadn't returned to its normal rate yet.

"You scared me half to death!" Anna hissed reproachfully. "I was about ready to come looking for you!"

Mitchie smiled bashfully at her friend. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "I had one bit of unfinished business that I had to take care of before we leave tomorrow."

"And it couldn't have waited until tomorrow morning, preferably at a decent hour?" Anna questioned.

Mitchie climbed wearily into bed, feeling completely worn out now that the adrenaline had dissipated from her body. "Not this bit of business," she told her friend with a smile.

"What did you do?" Anna asked suspiciously.

Mitchie smiled as she snuggled into her blankets. "I'll tell you in the morning. Goodnight."

She heard Anna mumble something unintelligible and she smiled, feeling the first drowsiness of sleep beginning to take hold of her. Now, her friend and her brother would truly be free.


	19. Sadness

**This is Prompt No. 7-Sadness**

Mitchie awoke the next morning, stretching her hands above her head. She wore a smile on her face until the full effect of the morning hit her and she realized what was at stake. She closed her eyes once more, this time trying to find the courage to get out of the bed, knowing that she would never get back into it. Pretending to be brave and carefree for Mitchell and Anna was one thing, actually going through with some of the hardest parts of the plan was another entirely.

"Good morning," Anna said, coming to sit down on the bed next to Mitchie.

Mitchie opened her eyes and smiled weakly at her friend. "Morning," she responded, trying to sound cheerful.

Anna smiled knowingly at her friend. "It isn't a good morning?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Mitchie winced. "It's alright." She bit her lip and added, "I'm nervous."

Anna, being the true friend she was, said, "We don't have to do this, you know." She reached for Mitchie's hand and held it tightly. "We can just call everything off right now and we won't have to worry about it."

Mitchie had to work hard at blinking back the tears. "Thank you," she said sincerely, knowing that Anna knew all that she was offering to give up, "but I really want to do this." She paused, glancing toward the windows in her bedroom, studying the rays of light that were coming in through the cracks in the shutters. "I'm just scared."

Anna nodded, resolved to say no more about backing out. "I think that's perfectly natural," she said, and she stiffened, rising quickly from the bed. "After all, boarding schools are always slightly strange, or so I've been told, Miss."

Mitchie frowned, unsure why Anna's demeanor had suddenly changed until she heard the rap at the door. "Come in," she called, tensing unconsciously.

The door opened and in walked Mr. Torres, dressed for the day already. "Are you almost ready to get going, darling?" he asked.

Mitchie glanced back down at the sheets covering her and smiled back up at her father. "All I have left to do is to get dressed, daddy. Everything else is ready to go."

Her father smiled and came over to sit down on the side of Mitchie's bed, looking up at Anna questioningly. "Are you having second thoughts about boarding school?" he asked.

Mitchie then realized that Anna must have heard Mr. Torres coming down the hall, and had thus changed her manner of her address. "No," she said, in order to assure him. "I'm actually looking forward to going. I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

"Alright," he said warily, backing out of the room. "Hurry up, it's almost time for you to go."

"Okay," Mitchie said, willing him out of her room as fast as possible. When her father left, she and Anna breathed a sigh of relief and Mitchie pushed back the covers and hopped out of bed, dressing quickly, and silently, with Anna's help. "Thank you," she said softly as Anna buttoned the last button on the dress.

Anna smiled slightly at her friend. "You're welcome," she answered. She moved to the window and looked out. "The carriage is here," she told Mitchie.

Mitchie nodded. "Then I guess it's time to go," she said resolutely, picking up the valise, her small bag, and heading out the door with Anna following right behind her.

Downstairs, Mr. and Mrs. Torres were standing on the porch, waiting to wave their daughter and her servant off. Mrs. Torres hugged Mitchie lightly, making sure not to rumple her dress, and said, "I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with myself. You're leaving today and so is Mitchell."

Mitchie nodded and said, "I know." _"Oh don't I know,"_ she was thinking, but her face remained stoically calm. "But I'm sure you'll find something to do with your days." Mitchie had to fight hard to keep the smile on her face from slipping. Her mother was acting as though she spent every day with her children, which was far from the actual pattern of her actions.

She moved to her father and kissed him goodbye, and turned to find Mitchell leaning heavily against a porch post, watching her intently. Mitchie moved over to him and threw her arms around him, struggling not to cry. Her emotions were overpowering her and she was afraid that she would be unable to hold them in for much longer. "I'll see you soon," she said honestly.

Mitchell nodded, and his whole body seemed to slump. "Soon," he responded, knowing that his sister, unfortunately, meant literally.

Mitchie turned and waved once more to her family before motioning for Anna to join her in the carriage. "See you all later!" she called as the carriage jerked into motion, taking her down the long drive of the plantation. She feared, though, that she would never come back.

The driver stopped at the predetermined spot after a half hour of driving, and Anna helped Mitchie change into her other clothes. Her mouth practically hit her knees when Mitchie handed her a pair of sheep shears and said casually, "You're going to have to cut my hair off."

"What!" Anna cried, stunned as she watched Mitchie pull her carefully-placed pins out of her hair once more.

"I said, 'you're going to have to cut my hair off,'" Mitchie responded calmly. When Anna continued to gape at her she said impatiently, "You didn't really think that I could walk right into an army camp with all my hair tucked under my hat, did you? They would know that I'm a girl the first time they told me to take my cap off in respect for a commanding officer."

Anna looked reluctant as she nodded, having understood, yet not liked, Mitchie's point. She picked up the shears again and her hands shook slightly as she cut off a fistful of Mitchie's black hair. Another fistful came next, and then another, until Mitchie's hair was short enough to pass for a boy's. "There," Anna said when she had finished.

Mitchie ran a hand through her new hairstyle and a smile spread across her face. "It's so light!" she exclaimed.

"It's so indecent," Anna retorted sullenly, staring down at her lap where she had placed each of Mitchie's tresses as she had cut them. "But it looks pretty good, if I do say so myself," she paused, "for having to use sheep shears."

Mitchie laughed and even Anna joined in, but the giggles died away when they heard the clip of a horse's canter. The laughter stilled on their lips and Mitchie tensed, knowing what was coming next. She heard her brother greet the driver, and then the door to the carriage opened and Mitchell stepped inside. When his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he gazed at Mitchie for a long time before remarking flatly, "You look like a boy."

Mitchie, trying to keep her composure, responded tartly by saying, "That _was_ the point, Mitchell." She pulled out the pocket watch she now carried attached to her coat pocket and glanced at the time. "I should be going," she said softly. This was already becoming painful.

Mitchell nodded and stepped out of the carriage, extended his hand to help Mitchie and Anna out. He strode to his horse, whose reins he had tied to the wheel of the carriage, and led the horse over to his sister. "He's a good, strong horse," he told Mitchie, giving her a boost into the saddle. "He'll take good care of you."

Mitchie nodded and held the reins in her right hand as she used her left to clasp Anna's hands in a parting squeeze. She was afraid that if she dismounted to hug her friend and her brother that she might start crying and ruin her whole brave façade. "I'll see you both soon," she promised, "somehow, some way, I'll find you."

Anna nodded and squeezed Mitchell's arm as she said, "Be careful, Mitchie."

"Take care," Mitchell said, and Mitchie saw that he was trying hard not to cry, so she wheeled the horse around and raised her hand in farewell, spurring the animal on and never looking back. When she was a safe distance away, she let the tears come.

**A/N: Comments? Anyome? Please let me know what you think. Don't be lazy!**


	20. Confusion

**This is Prompt No. 38-Confusion**

For two hours, Mitchie prepped herself for what she was about to do and vehemently ordered herself to stop even _thinking_ about crying. She gave her horse a slight tap in the ribs, urging it forward as the army camp came into sight, its beige tents and unattended fires making the place appear foreboding before Mitchie had even reached it. She raised her eyebrows as she saw soldiers bustling about, but seeming to go nowhere in particular, and shouts ringing out from all corners of the camp. Everything echoed, and by the time she had drawn closer to the camp, she was utterly confused as to where the sounds were coming from.

"You there!" someone shouted.

Mitchie's horse sidestepped slightly at the loud voice, but Mitchie ignored the animal and turned to find the speaker. She found a young man sprawled out on the ground, his back propped up against a log that other soldiers were using as a seat. His feet were inches from the fire, and his boots looked old and worn out, but his smile was rather dazzling and seemed to make his whole face light up. He set his coffee cup down and stood up, brushing the seat of his pants off before he walked over to Mitchie. "Were you calling me?" Mitchie asked.

The young man looked up at her, patting the horse all the while, and nodded, "I wanted to catch you before you start trying to find your way around here. You're enlisted, right?"

Mitchie nodded and swung out of the saddle. She smiled back and extended her hand. "Mitchell Torres," she said, trying out the new name for the first time.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mitchell. I'm Jason Black." Jason grinned. "Should I show you to the commander's office?"

Mitchie nodded and grabbed her bags off of the saddle horn. "That would be great," she said.

Jason put his hand to his mouth and let out a shrill whistle, calling out, "Lieutenant Brandon! Take Mr. Torres' horse, will you?"

The young man nodded and came jogging over to take the reins and lead the horse away. Mitchie looked around at the hazy camp and remarked, "How do you ever find your way around here?" She glanced pointedly at the labyrinth of tents and fire pits. "It's so confusing."

Jason followed her gaze and nodded, tugging slightly on his grey uniform. "Well, it's not just the camp that's confusing." He motioned for Mitchie to follow him and he walked as he explained. "We've all gathered here, but there are very few orders for our division. That's why we're all sitting around doing absolutely nothing. This regiment is pretty much the scruffiest, most ill-disciplined camp the Confederates have."

Mitchie glanced around as she walked, being careful not to step on anyone, and muttered under her breath, "Thank you, daddy."

Jason glanced at her and smiled. "Lots of us here think those same words." He shook his head. "This camp is affectionately referred to as Camp Confusion." The sarcasm in his voice made it clear to Mitchie that the term "affectionately" was really anything but affectionate.

"So you haven't had any orders or anything?" Mitchie asked, trying not to sound like she was prying already. Perhaps, if this was the camp that would see no action due to its disorganization, she would be even safer. _"I wouldn't have to drink that awful stuff Anna packed for me, either,"_ Mitchie thought with glee.

"None," Jason responded with a shake of his head. "The men are getting tired of just sitting around, waiting." He looked around grimly and said, "Most of them have nice homes that they want to go back to, and someone was shot last week for desertion because he tried to go home."

Mitchie winced, knowing that the story had been told in order to warn her against trying to leave and not just a conversational topic. "Thanks for the tip," she said.

Jason stopped outside one of the larger tents and smiled. "Any time," he told her. He pulled one side of the flap open for her to step through. "In there."

Mitchie nodded her thanks and stepped inside, standing awkwardly for a moment before her eyes adjusted and she was once again able to see clearly. The inside of the tent was much different than she had expected it to be. There were rugs covering the floor, stretching from one end of the tent to the other. There was a small bed instead of the standard issue cot sitting against the wall, and an oak desk sitting in the back of the tent. A small man sat behind the desk, watching Mitchie carefully with piercing blue eyes as she surveyed his domain. She couldn't tell whether he was pleased or annoyed to see her.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked, referring to her obvious curiosity with the environment around her.

Mitchie blushed, afraid that she had appeared too forward in her examinations. "I'm sorry, sir," she said quietly. "But yes, I do like what I see." She glanced around at the sparse furnishings. "It looks very cozy."

The older commander smiled and nodded at the "young man" standing in front of him. "Name?"

"Mitchell Torres," Mitchie answered readily.

"You'll be sharing a tent with Lieutenant Black, Mr. Torres," the commander said in a bored tone as if he had gone through this questioning a thousand times, which he probably had. "Any questions?"

"No sir," Mitchie said quietly even though she had quite a few.

"Good," the commander said. "Lieutenant Black can show you how to load a gun, if you don't know how to already." He nodded at Mitchie. "Dismissed."

Mitchie dared not ask any other question, but nodded and turned, heading once more out into the maze of tents and the haze of the smoky fires. She blinked, trying to clear the tears in her eyes that the fire was inducing. As she glanced around, Mitchie tried to remember which way she and Jason had come to no avail. "I'm so confused," she said aloud.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Shane's chapter is next! Please review!**


	21. How?

**This is Prompt No. 82-How?**

Jason Black watched Mitchie step out of the commander's tent and look around, completely confused. He shrank back into the shadows when she turned her head his way. She would find someone else to take her to their tent. For now, he had to find someone. He slipped out through the other end of the tent and began to stroll down the opposite side of the camp that Mitchie had come from. He raised a hand of greeting to one of the guards on patrol. "Hey there, Jim. How goes?"

The guard shrugged and looked bored. "There's nothing going on," he said honestly. He grinned and leveled his gun at Jason. "You're not thinking about deserting, are you? That would be some action."

Jason grinned at the young man and shook his head. "Nope. I'm just in need of a walk."

The guard nodded. "Go ahead. You sure do take a lot of walks."

Jason laughed. "I like to keep in shape, Jim." He waved as he passed by, taking the road down from the camp and disappearing into the woods. He forced himself to look around at the scenery he had seen hundreds of times, and stoutly refused to let himself look back, since he knew that Jim would still be watching him.

He wove his way through the trees and once he was out of sight, he began to run. His feet pounded the ground, and he silently cursed the worn out boots he had been forced to wear. He jumped over a log and kept running, heading away from the camp, and the wars that were taking place to the east. It took an hour of hard running, with only short pauses in between, to reach his destination, a worn, dilapidated house that looked as though it hadn't been lived in for centuries. His boots sounded ominously loud as he stepped up onto the porch, smiling as it gave a loud groan.

He didn't bother to knock, but instead pushed open the door and stepped inside. The door groaned on its hinges and closed with a loud bang, causing Jason to jump slightly. "I'll never get used to that," he muttered.

He crossed over to the cupboard that occupied the far wall from floor to ceiling and opened the cupboard door. He slid inside, squeezing in between the widely spaced cupboard shelves, and tapped out a rapid, complicated pattern with his knuckles. When he had finished, the cupboard shelves began to shake, and Jason closed the cupboard door before he found himself descending down at a rapid pace. When the cupboard stopped moving, a small door behind him opened and he rolled out onto cushioned surface. He opened his eyes and found light shining into them.

"Hey there, Jason," someone said.

Jason rolled over onto his side and found a young woman standing there, smiling down at him. He smiled back. "Hey, Caitlyn. Is the general in?"

Caitlyn nodded. "He and everyone else are in the meeting room. They sent me out here to collect you."

Jason stood and brushed off his clothes. "Makes me sound like I'm loose change or something," he muttered good-naturedly.

Caitlyn grinned. "Loose, yes, but I'm not so sure about the change part."

Jason playfully elbowed her as she led the way through the establishment to the meeting room. Caitlyn pushed open the door and announced, "He's finally here."

Jason rolled his eyes. "It takes a while to get here on foot," he informed her. "Can we make this rather short? I have to get back soon." He nodded to the general and then turned to the two men sitting next to him, making up the "group." "How are you, Shane?" he asked the first.

Shane Grey nodded and smiled at his friend. "I'm fine," he said evasively.

Jason frowned. "Are you sure?" he asked, "'cause you've been a bit out of sorts since you came back from France."

The other young man snorted and said, "He's lovesick, that's all."

"Nate!" Shane hissed, but the warning was too late.

Caitlyn's ears perked up and she said, "You never told me about a girl!" She smacked Shane's arm. "You always tell me everything!" she complained.

The general sat forward in his chair and asked, "Who is this girl, Shane?"

Shane glared at Nate, the gaze promising that he would kill his brother under the cover of darkness later. "She's someone I met on our mission to France. I rescued her from a rather…sticky situation, and we got to talking." He shrugged. "She seemed very different, and I guess I fell in love." He sat back in his chair with a loving smile on his face. "She had the most peculiar name. Mitchie Torres." He looked up at Caitlyn and said, "She had a twin brother, Mitchell that she loved to death." He looked up at Jason and was surprised to see that his friend's face had gone white, and he had become very stiff. "What is it?" Shane asked, concerned.

Jason slowly asked, "Did she have black hair and chocolaty brown eyes and this huge smile?"

Shane looked startled. "Yes," he said slowly. "How would you know that?"

Jason answered, "Because I met her today."

Shane was up out of his chair before anyone else could even react. "What?!" he shouted. "How? You were at the camp the whole day, weren't you?"

Jason took a deep breath and nodded, prepared to give the whole story. "She came into camp and I could almost immediately tell that she was a girl, but she was dressed as a boy, and she introduced herself as Mitchell Torres. She had no idea where she was going, so I took her to the commander's tent." He shook his head. "I had no idea that you would actually know her!"

"What do you mean, dressed as a boy?" Shane asked, his face deathly pale.

"I mean that she looked like a boy," Jason reiterated, "short hair and all. She was actually rather convincing, but boys don't pick their way through camp like she did. Why do you think she lied about who she was?"

Shane put his head in his hands. "She's taking his place," he muttered. "She's going to fight instead of her brother."

"Is she crazy?!" Nate cried, having seen Mitchie in France for a fleeting moment. "There's no way she could stand that!"

The general, who had been silent through these developments, now spoke. "Unless she's planning something," he mused.

Caitlyn turned to him and asked, "Like what?"

The general was silent for a moment. "Desertion is out of the way, so she must be planning something else. Perhaps getting, or pretending to be, sick?"

Jason thought for a moment. "That could work, I suppose. The army doesn't need sick men-I mean women- on their hands, so they'd probably send her back home after a while."

Shane began pacing up and down. "We have to get her out of there," he said desperately. "She can't be left there."

"Agreed," the general said. "And you're sure that she supports our cause?"

Shane nodded. "Wholeheartedly. Her brother must be the reason that she's there in the first place." He tapped his chin with his index finger. "She might even be an asset to this organization."

Caitlyn's eyes widened. "Another girl?" Her cheeks grew into a smile and she asked, "How soon can we get her?"

The general smiled at her tolerantly. "Caitlyn," he cautioned, "she is not a puppy or something that you can just pick up on whim. She's a person, and people take time to steal away. No, we must get her out of the encampment without having her hunted down for desertion."

"But how?" Shane asked, his mind working in overdrive to try and think of a solution.

"I can only see one way of going about this that will actually work," the general said, but his voice sounded hesitant, strained, like it was an option he didn't like. "Although ingenious, her plan of sickness will never work."

Shane wheeled around. "What?" he asked eagerly, his heart racing. He never thought that he would see Mitchie Torres again, but now that such a meeting was a possibility, he was going to cling to any hope given to him.

The general sat back in his chair, getting ready for the argument he knew would take place upon voicing his suggestion. "You'll have to shoot her."

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Casi, one of my close friends. Thanks for reading everything, here's your shoutout! And to Kacee, who loves all the mysterious secret panels and stuff like that. This is for you, Kace!**


	22. Refuse

**This is Prompt No. 68-Refuse**

"Absolutely not!" Shane bellowed, his enraged voice ringing out in the small room, causing the others in the room to recoil slightly. The general, however, sat calmly in his seat, staring at one of his best men in his organization.

"I realize that this will be difficult for you, Shane," the commander said understandingly, "but this is the only way plausible. Can _you_ think of another option?"

Shane scowled, knowing that there _was _no other option. If there had been, the general would not have suggested this idea of his in the first place. "No," he admitted sullenly.

Caitlyn spoke up. "There must be some other way," she tried, looking desperately at her husband. Nate, in return, just shrugged.

"I can't think of anything," Nate admitted.

"Which is why it must be done," the general told them. He turned to Jason, who had sat down and was nervously gripping the table ledge in order not to pace like Shane was doing. "You'll be the one to do it," he said.

"No!" Jason cried, jumping from his chair. "I refuse!"

"I refuse to let him!" Shane shouted at the same time.

"Gentlemen!" the general called, demanding control of the group. "There is no other choice. Jason is the best shot we've found. He can hit anything right where he wants to. Your Mitchie will be safe as long as he takes his time and thinks."

"That's too much pressure!" Jason argued, glancing nervously at his friend. Shane looked like he was ready to strangle someone. "I-what if I hurt her?"

The general smiled. "You'll have to hurt her to save her. Just don't fatally wound her and you'll be fine." He turned to Shane. "We'll have to inform Commanding General Scott that we need to push the camp into action. We need a surprise attack that will allow us to carry out our plan." The general stroked his bearded chin and said, "The only question is, how in the world do we keep our men from getting killed while we do this?"

Jason spoke almost instantly, completely familiar with the camp and its surrounding areas. "If a small army advanced from the woods under the cover of darkness, you might stand a chance. Although our army hasn't been trained, the camp does rest on a hill, giving us the advantage, but if you could sneak up, you might get in and out quickly."

"I'll pass that along," the general promised, nodding. "Good work, Jason." He nodded to Shane. "It was a good idea to put him in there, Shane."

Shane just gave a barely perceptible nod to indicate that he had heard and looked up at his friend. "How are you going to do it?" he asked.

Jason responded carefully as though he had really thought about it, which he had. "I think the best way to do it is to get on the opposite side of where Mitchie is and then shoot from there. I'll shoot her in the arm, probably the shoulder, where I can do the least damage. For all her bravery, I have a feeling that she won't be able to handle that sort of pain. She'll faint, giving the impression that she's dead, and then we can get her and be gone."

"What if someone takes a shot at her?" Shane asked.

Jason paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer that one. The general saved him from answering, though, by answering the question for him. "We'll inform the men that they are not to shoot in the region where Mitchie should be. Chances are, she's going to stay close to her tent and not move. We'll keep them away from her, don't worry."

Shane nodded, not completely satisfied, but unwilling to rebut again. "So be it," he said, "but we must have medical staff here for when we bring her back."

"Agreed," Caitlyn spoke up. Everyone in the room turned to look at her, having forgotten that she was still in the room. "I'll get a team gathered right away." She placed a hand on Shane's shoulder and smiled. "Don't worry, Shane. She'll be fine. We'll take good care of her."

Shane smiled weakly at his sister-in-law and nodded. "Thanks," he said.

The general pushed back his chair and stood, straightening his vest as he did so. "I do believe that this meeting is then adjourned. I'll contact Commanding General Scott and let him know that his forces must press the camp in two weeks." He turned to Jason and asked, "That gives them enough time to get here, but does it give you enough time to practice?"

Jason nodded and answered, "Yes, sir."

The general nodded once again. "Good. Now, would you be kind enough to give Jason a ride back to camp?" he asked a rather disgruntled Shane.

"Yes, sir," Shane responded sullenly and he stood, motioning for Jason to follow him. He squeezed Caitlyn's arm as he passed, his own way of saying goodbye, and then they were off, walking briskly through the many tunnels of the underground headquarters. Jason knew better than to speak to his friend at the moment and wisely kept silent.

* * *

They rode through the woods on Shane's powerful mount, a three year old stallion that he had trained by himself. Shane was quiet, but Jason could see that his fingers were gripping the reins in a painfully tight hold, causing his knuckles to turn white, and then red. As they came to just inside the edge of the forest, Shane reined in his horse and gave Jason a hand down.

Jason turned to go, prepared to walk back into camp with an innocent smile on his face as though he had simply taken a long walk once again, but Shane's soft voice called him back. He turned around and saw that Shane had already wheeled his horse around, preparing to ride back. "Yes?" he asked quietly.

"If you hurt her-" Shane began, but Jason cut him off.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

**A/N: Comment please! I hope you liked it!**


	23. Fire

**This is Prompt No. 64-Fire**

For the next two weeks, Jason contemplated deserting the camp knowing all the while that he couldn't. He shared a tent with Mitchie and winced whenever his thoughts wandered to what Shane might say if he knew that they were sharing. Shane had a tendency to be very jealous. Often, soothed by Mitchie's light, even breathing, Jason would stare up at the pinnacle of the tent and try to run over his plan again and again. He knew what he _had_ to do; his obstacle was _how_ to do it.

The night that the ambush was scheduled to take place, Jason was tensed and taught, like a wire. His hands twisted in the one sheet that covered his body that let even a slight breeze in through its wispy layers and sweat formed on his forehead. There was so much at stake, so much that could go wrong tonight, and it was imperative that it not be his fault. He knew that Shane would be distraught if something happened to the young woman across the tent from Jason.

He turned his head and watched the sleeping figure, smiling as he noticed once again that in the night, under the cover of darkness, she let her features slip, revealing the young, scared girl underneath. "Not for much longer," Jason whispered.

He lay in the darkness for a long while, waiting, counting, hoping that everything would just happen so that he could be done with it. Time seemed to crawl by as he waiting for the camp to stir under the threat of a battle they had not prepared for. His ears strained to hear any sounds of movement, but everything was as still as could be. Jason rolled his head to the side, breaking the silence with the sound of his neck cracking.

Almost as though that had been a signal of sorts, the silence of the night shattered with the rocket of gunfire. Jason jumped out of his blankets, already dressed, just in time to see Mitchie bolt awake, scrambling blearily for the gun she didn't know how to use. She grabbed it, the barrel gripped in her hand possessively as though just the gun's presence would protect her.

"What's going on?" she cried out, trying to be heard over the cacophonous noise outside the tent.

"Sounds like someone's attacking!" Jason shouted back, trying to remember to look sleepy as well. He grabbed his gun and bolted out the flap in the tent. "Stay close to the tent and you'll be fine!" he yelled. _"Please,"_ he added in his head as he darted around the men that were running out of their tents, some with their trousers only half on, and some others hopping around on one foot in an effort to pull their second boot on while trying to load their gun. If the situation hadn't been as highly charged as it was for Jason, he might have laughed.

He skirted around the action, firing shots aimlessly when someone looked at him longer than the usual glance to make sure that he was in the same army they were. He didn't want anyone suspecting. "We're running out of gunpowder!" someone cried.

"I thought we had plenty!" another yelled. "Were'd it go?"

Jason tried not to grin as he ran past them. "Oops," he whispered. He felt absolutely no need to inform them that he had been slowly draining the supply, passing it over to the Union Army as part of his mission.

He ran to the edge of camp and stopped, standing straight up in the formation like everyone else, and as a bullet whizzed by him, planned of course, he fell, rolling down the steep hill until he came to the edge of the woods, "dead." Someone roughly grabbed his gun from his still hands and then, with a great heave, threw his lifeless body into the forest, out of their way as they advanced. The moment Jason fell, he rolled the rest of the way, wincing only slightly as his body protested against such flippant handling.

"You alright?" someone yelled, and Jason saw Shane standing there, looking concerned.

He nodded to his friend. "Fine!" he yelled over the gunfire. He stood and leaned forward so that he could speak semi normally in Shane's ear. "Let's get this over with!"

Shane handed Jason a rifle, and Jason bit his lip as he shed his grey uniform, revealing the blue one underneath. He gripped the rifle tightly, feeling as though all eyes were watching him as he ran to the location he had picked out and knelt behind the first rank. His eyes trained over the camp, searching for his tent, and he found it, unconsciously letting out a sigh as he found Mitchie right where he had told her to be. He smiled slightly and moved his rifle up to the crook in his shoulder, ready to aim, when things went horribly wrong.

A gun went off and a soldier fell close to the front line of the Confederate soldiers. Jason recognized him, even from the distance that separated them, and groaned. The soldier was Andy, a young man that loved to sit next to Jason and Mitchie during the nights and tap out rhythms on his knees or the old, practically rusted coffee cup he carried around. Mitchie used to snatch it away whenever possible, letting her façade down as she chastised him about getting sick.

"No!" Jason groaned behind clenched teeth. "Not him!" Mitchie, he knew, adored him in the brother sort of way.

As if on clockwork, a tiny figure dashed out from the safety of the tent and tumbled rather awkwardly next to the fallen soldier. "Stupid girl!" Jason cursed and leaned forward to yell in the ear of the soldier in front of him, "Don't shoot that girl!"

The soldier nodded and fired elsewhere, telling the soldier next to him the same message as he reloaded. Jason raised his gun once more even as he saw Mitchie raise hers, but he was too late. Somewhere in the midst of the army, someone took a shot at her, striking her in the arm and sending her flying backwards into the dirt. Jason paused, his gun barrel slowly lowering as he waited to see if he was needed. "Don't get up," he hissed under his breath. "Don't get up." The almost inaudible demand started to sound like a chant after a while.

Slowly, almost as if the very effort pained her, Jason saw Mitchie rise slowly and turn towards Andy. She nodded once and fumbled with the gun. She meant to reload it!

"No!" Jason hissed and raised his gun, forcing himself to breathe, even as he whispered the command that chilled his heart. "Fire."

He pulled the trigger and the gun went off.


	24. Sound

**This is Prompt No. 97-Sound**

Shane Grey was sure that his heart was going to break. As he stood behind the lines, watching as Jason felled the girl who had seemed to awaken him, he could practically hear the sound of her breath being forced from her lungs as she fell backwards. He could practically hear the moan of pain she must have uttered as her head rolled to the side, and his hands clenched at his sides.

The few men that were still left in the camp were scattering, running for their lives, and Shane felt no reason to continue the fighting. What needed to be done was done. Now, he had to get to Mitchie. When he was sure that the coast was clear, he and Jason and a few other men stepped forward and started up the hill, guns in hand in case anyone was still around. Shane could hear the sound of his breath and the sound of his boots crunching the dirt as he tried to maintain an even, controlled pace. He was the first to reach Mitchie, the first to see her eyes open slowly, as though the very action pained her, and the first to hear the sound of her gasp. "You!" she cried, and then she lost consciousness.

The way she had said, "you" gave Shane hope. She remembered him. There had been recognition in her eyes before they had rolled back into her head. He slowly picked her up, cradling her in his arms as he made his slow descent back down the hill. "Shane!" Jason called from behind him.

Shane turned and eyed his friend. "Yes?" he asked.

"I know you're trying to be careful with her, but you have to get her back to the base as quickly as you can. Caitlyn's waiting for her there. If you take too long, an infection, or even worse, gangrene, could set in." Jason glanced from Mitchie to Shane and back again, searching both faces as though he could find a possible infection in one and understanding in the other.

Shane nodded. "I'll do that," he said softly. He turned to go, but turned back around again. "And Jason?"

"Yes?"

Shane smiled weakly at Jason and said, "Thank you." He looked down at Mitchie and looked back at his friend. "For everything," he clarified.

Jason nodded. "No problem," he assured him. He nodded to the girl in Shane's arm. "Better get going. You'll want her to be comfortable."

Shane nodded and turned back down the hill, heading at a slightly faster pace. The world seemed surreal now that the battle was over. As Shane made his way through the ranks on men recollecting themselves, he could hear the faint buzzing left in his ears thanks to the explosions of the guns. He could hear the groans of the few men that were wounded. He could hear the crunch of his boots, now on dried grass, as he lifted Mitchie into the saddle before swinging up behind her.

He nodded to the men in Commanding General Scott's regiment and wheeled his horse around, grimacing as he urged the animal into a gallop through the woods. He winced as he heard the almost inaudible groan that came from Mitchie's mouth as the horse jumped a log and landed on the other side, jarring her.

The sound of Caitlyn's calling was one that Shane would be forever thankful for. There she was, standing outside the dilapidated cottage, ready to receive Mitchie. "Bring her inside," she called to Shane.

He nodded and swung himself out of the saddle, reaching up and pulling Mitchie close once more. He hurriedly jumped the steps of the old porch and dashed into the main room. Caitlyn squeezed into the "cupboard" with him and his bundle and then all three were descending down into the heart of the base. "Which room?" Shane asked as he and Caitlyn stood up.

Caitlyn's eyes flickered to Mitchie's face for a moment, examining her out of frank curiosity, but then she answered, "Take her to the one next to your room." They ran through the base, dodging around the occasional person, weaving in and out of tunnel until they came to the correct room. "We have everything we might need," Caitlyn informed him as he came through the door and laid Mitchie gently on the bed. Shane felt as though his heart was going to tear as he saw Mitchie's head loll to the side, almost lifelessly.

"Is she going to be okay?" Shane asked, turning to his sister-in-law. His probing eyes met hers and she nodded.

"I hope so," she said. She motioned towards the door. "I have a team coming right now to help me, but you need to go and get some rest. Go on, shoo." She herded him out the door, but paused right before she shut it. "Shane, she'll be fine. Please don't worry."

"Please don't worry," Shane muttered as a few women moved past him and entered the room. He shook his head dazedly and strode into his own room muttering, "Easier said than done."

For the next few hours, Shane could only focus on the sounds he heard around him. He heard the creak of the door rotating on its slightly rusted hinges and knew without poking his head out that door that more people were coming to help in the room next door. He heard whispers, their syllables barely reaching his ears as though they were tendrils of smoke seeping out and getting swept away by a breeze, and he knew by their tone that something was wrong.

Tense as he was, Shane could not help but doze on and off, falling fitfully asleep for only a minute or two before waking up again, straining to hear if he could discern any of the words that were being spoken. When he could not, he fell once again back to sleep. In the middle of the night sometime, the sound of a scream ripped through the still air, causing Shane to vault out of bed. He tore out of his room, but before he could enter the one next door, Caitlyn stepped out, having anticipated his intentions.

"Go get some sleep," she ordered. "We're just digging out the bullets and cleaning the wounds. There's nothing for you to do." She laid a friendly hand on Shane's arm and gently pushed him back towards his own room.

Her words made him feel helpless, but Shane knew that there was nothing he could do. He slunk back to his own room, wincing each time he heard a groan or a scream and wondering why he had ever let the general suggest such a plan. Each sound that came from the room endeared Mitchie a little more to Shan's heart, making her more special, and even more loved.

Finally, the best sound of all reached his ears: silence. Shane listened for a moment longer, but there was nothing. His mouth, set in a grim line, curved into a smile and he rolled over, suddenly finding that he was exhausted. He was able to sleep now, for he knew that where there was silence, Mitchie slept.

**A/N: See, she's alright! Everyone who was worried can calm down now! :D Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Over 100 reviews now! You guys rock!**


	25. Hours

**This is Prompt 73-Hours**

When Shane was finally allowed into Mitchie's room, he darted past the women coming out of the room and sank down on the side of Mitchie's bed, angling away from the bandages that covered her one arm. He stroked her hair, which was now matted and tangled from her thrashing, and felt a stinging rush of water flowing through his eyes as he gazed at her face. The features there were so innocent, so perfect, in Shane's thinking, but there were underlying shadows that would cross her face, causing her to frown or to toss her head to the side in pain.

The door creaked open and Caitlyn slipped inside, her eyes taking in her brother-in-law, now seated in a chair, and holding Mitchie's good hand. "Hi," she said softly, her eyes flickering to Shane's face.

"Hi," he said in return, patting the empty chair next to him in a motion for Caitlyn to sit with him.

She moved next to him without speaking, her eyes moving over Mitchie's form, checking, no doubt, for any signs of fever or infection. She found none, for she turned cheerfully to Shane and asked, "How're you doing?"

Shane shrugged. "I'm fine," he said.

"You should go and get some more rest," Caitlyn prompted. "That was a difficult assignment." She grinned weakly, trying a tactic that she knew would make Shane pay attention. "Your hair's a mess."

To her utter shock, Shane just shrugged again. "Doesn't matter," he muttered, his eyes still fixed on Mitchie's small form. "No one's going to see me."

Caitlyn sat there for a while, simply blinking at Shane. Then, she turned her gaze back once again to Mitchie and lost herself in thought. If this girl had so captivated Shane in the few minutes they had had together that he didn't even care anymore about the state of his hair, Caitlyn knew that she couldn't wait to meet her. "You're right," she agreed with a nod.

Shane acknowledged her acquiescence with a nod and stroked Mitchie's hand with his thumb. There was a long silence, a hesitance in his voice, before he said, "I love her."

Caitlyn smiled. "I know."

Shane turned to her, slightly surprised. He had figured that Nate's comment two weeks ago about him being in love had simply been brushed off by everyone as an over exaggeration. "You do?" Caitlyn nodded and he asked, "How?"

Caitlyn motioned to the girl on the bed. "By watching you with her." Her voice held a soft, unhurried edge that Shane had rarely ever heard from her. "By seeing that you really care for her. She's changed you Shane." She couldn't hold back a giggle. "I never thought I'd see the day when you cared about someone more than your hair!"

Shane tried to look injured, but he knew it was true. "She's different," was all he said. "Good different."

Caitlyn smiled and stood. "You'd better get something to eat," she told him. "You really look tired." She poked him playfully in the ribs. "Those muscles you love so much will be the first things to go if you start wasting away because you won't eat."

Shane glanced toward Mitchie. "But what if she wakes up?" he asked.

Caitlyn shook her head. "She'll be fine for a few minutes. You, on the other hand, won't be if you don't come right now."

Shane glanced again toward the young woman in the bed and started again, "But-"

Caitlyn sighed, trying to look annoyed, yet secretly thrilled that Shane was so attached to this girl already. "Fine," she huffed. "I surrender." She strode to the door and turned back to smile kindly at Shane. "I'll have someone bring a tray for you."

Shane smiled, pleased at her thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Caitlyn," he said quietly.

**A/N: Another one of those short chapters that fits in, I promise! Please review! :D**


	26. Shade

**This is Prompt No. 89-Shade**

In the short time between the moon's setting and the sun's rising, Mitchie's eyelids slowly opened, taking a moment to adjust before they focused on the girl sitting next to her. They shut again moments later as a searing pain shot straight from her arm to her eyes, causing a white light to flash in front of her, blurring her vision. She let out a gasp and barely succeeded in not arching off the bed.

Quickly, the girl was out of her chair, her hands reaching out to steady Mitchie. "Easy," she whispered, her voice soothing. "Just lay back. The pain will go away if you stay still."

Mitchie did as she was told, trying not to whimper as the pain once again coursed through her as she sank back onto the pillows. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice rusty from disuse. Her eyes flittered around the small room, taking in the hominess of it before she turned back to the young woman in front of her.

"You're underground," Caitlyn explained, "in a safe house." She gazed at Mitchie curiously. "Do you remember anything?"

Mitchie thought for a moment. "Yes," she said slowly. Images began to run through her mind at a rapid pace, causing her to grip the sheets tightly in her fists without realizing that she was doing so. Caitlyn noticed the action and reached over to gently hold Mitchie's hand, giving a comforting squeeze occasionally until the memories stopped. Mitchie turned back to Caitlyn and nodded. "I remember everything."

Caitlyn nodded and squeezed Mitchie's hand again. "I'm Caitlyn Grey, by the way."

Almost immediately, Mitchie's face fell. "Oh," she said weakly, forcing herself to be polite. "So nice to meet you."

Caitlyn noticed the change in tone and thought for a moment on what she had said, finding the problem to be in her wording. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and then began to laugh. "No, no, no," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not Shane's wife. I'm Shane's sister-in-law. I'm married to his brother, Nate."

Mitchie blushed a deep shade of red. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize-" she trailed off, blushing a deeper shade of red.

"That's an interesting shade," Caitlyn mused, making Mitchie blush even further.

Mitchie, seized by a sudden thought, shot up into a sitting position and cried, "Where's Shane? Is he hurt?"

Caitlyn watched, startled, as Mitchie seemed to not feel the pain from her sudden movements. Mitchie's eyes were wide open in fear as she scanned Caitlyn's face for any sign of an answer, whether good or bad. She found nothing, only concern for herself. Caitlyn finally overcame her shock and answered, "He's fine. He's been here the whole time, but he had to go and get some rest. Don't worry, he'll be here in a few minutes."

Satisfied, Mitchie sank back onto the pillows and that was when Caitlyn saw her face change from relieved to pained. "Why did he do it?" she rasped out from clenched teeth as she struggled to keep the pain under control.

Caitlyn frowned. "Do what?" she asked.

"Why did he shoot me?"

The voice sounded so young, so innocent, that Caitlyn was startled for a moment. For the first time, she saw the young woman behind the mask, the young woman that had questions without answers. "I think you should ask him," she responded. Realizing that her answer sounded rather mysterious, Caitlyn smiled at Mitchie and said, "He'd want to tell you himself."

Mitchie nodded, her curiosity peaked even more. Her eyes started to drift closed before they popped open once again and she asked, "What happened to Andy?"

Caitlyn had heard about the mission and had known that Mitchie had tried to save the soldier, so she was able to say, "I'm so sorry, but Mitchie, he died."

For a moment, all was still, as though the world couldn't quite believe what Caitlyn had said. Then, Mitchie's eyes began to get moist, and the tears began to fall down her cheeks even as she struggled to keep them in. "I should've done more," she whispered. "I could've saved him."

Caitlyn leaned on the edge of the bed, holding Mitchie close as the girl sobbed. "You can't save everyone," she responded, rubbing circles over Mitchie's back. "You've done so much," she continued, "I don't see how you could've done any more than you already have." She smiled at Mitchie as she raised her hand to dry the tears on Mitchie's cheeks. "I think you're very brave."

Mitchie smiled up at her new friend. "Really?" she asked hesitantly.

Caitlyn nodded. "Really."

She smiled and stood, gently easing Mitchie back onto her pillows. "You should get some rest," she cautioned.

"What about-" Mitchie began.

"I'll go find Shane as soon as I leave and let him know that you're awake." Caitlyn smiled. "He's anxious to see you."

Mitchie smiled and leaned her head back against the pillow. "I've been waiting to see him," she mused out loud. "It feels like forever since I've seen him."

Caitlyn smiled. "He feels the same way," she assured Mitchie. "Would you like some pain medication?" she asked. "That jolt from the bed you took must not have felt very good."

Mitchie shook her head vigorously. "No, I'm alright," she said. "That'll take too long."

Caitlyn realized that Mitchie thought that she would get the medication before she went to find Shane and had to smile once again. These two would be married before long, Caitlyn was sure. "If you do want some," she offered, trying not to smirk, "I'll go and get Shane and _then_ get the medicine."

She headed toward the door, waiting for Mitchie to stop her. It didn't take long. "It did kind of hurt," Mitchie admitted just as Caitlyn opened the door.

Caitlyn turned and smiled at the young woman in the bed. "I thought so."

**A/N: Please review and tell me how happy you are that she's awake! :D**


	27. Trampoline

**This is Prompt No. 33-Trampoline**

When the door closed behind Caitlyn, Mitchie lay back in bed more comfortably, letting herself wince as she felt another stabbing pain shoot through her shoulder and into her neck. "Ow," she whimpered, not quite able to keep the tears from coming. _"When will I ever learn not to be so stupid?"_ she wondered. "Probably never," she answered herself out loud wryly.

Her thoughts turned to Shane and his awaited arrival. Obviously he remembered her, but would he be pleased to see her? Was she being held captive for some reason, or had she been rescued? It was all so confusing! Mitchie's hands tightened on the sheet as she mentally examined all the possibilities.

Her body seemed, at the moment, very much like a trampoline. Her heart was beating so fast that it would occasionally leap into her throat, and then it would slide back down into the bottom of her stomach, staying there like a heavy rock. Her hands, still clutching the sheets, felt slick with sweat, and it was all she could do not to scream from anxiousness.

There was a slight knock on the door, and Mitchie tensed. "Come in," she called, immediately hating the way her voice sounded weak and raspy.

Almost instantaneously, the door flew wide open and Shane came hurrying in through it. He stopped suddenly when he saw Mitchie, and she likewise paused with her mouth hanging open, stunned.

Though it had only been three months since they had seen each other, time was a great diluter. Their memories of each other had faded slightly even though they had thought them to be as sharp as ever. With him standing only a few feet away from her, Mitchie couldn't help but be reminded of his handsome features. To her, he was just as handsome if he was wearing a dirty uniform as he had been when he had stolen her heart that night in France.

The meeting was much different for him as well. True, Mitchie was paler than he had remembered, but that would diminish in time once she regained her strength again. Her hair was glossier than he remembered, and he silently thanked Caitlyn for having given Mitchie a bath when she had arrived.

He stepped toward her slowly. "Hi," he said softly, not wanting to scare her by being too forward.

A slight smile graced her lovely face at his words and she responded, "Hi." Her next words were a gamble, but she couldn't help uttering them. "I've missed you."

Those words melted any hesitancy either one of them felt. Shane was at her side before she could comprehend that he had moved, and he was tenderly holding her hand as he sat down on the bed. "I've missed you too," he responded, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair out of her face.

"Did you?" Mitchie prodded.

Shane frowned, confused that she would question his feelings toward her. "Of course I did," he explained. "Why do you doubt that?"

Mitchie seemed to think for a moment and then she said, "I just want to know why you shot me."

Shane stilled almost instantly, and the hand that held Mitchie's tensed. After a long moment, Shane breathed out, "Alright." He nodded as though to show her that she had won. "I'll tell you." He shifted on the bed to make himself comfortable, and that one action told Mitchie that it was going to be a long explanation. "Do you remember back in France when I wouldn't tell you where I lived?"

"Yes," Mitchie answered with a nod.

"That's because I was testing you."

Mitchie frowned. This was not turning out the way she had expected. "What?" she asked. "Why?"

"Because I was in France on a mission," Shane explained, "and I had to make sure that you weren't a spy."

Mitchie couldn't help the laugh that issued from her lips. "A spy?" she asked. "Seriously?"

Shane nodded. "Yes, because that's what I am."

Mitchie stilled for a moment, surprise written on her features. "What?" The word "what" was becoming one of her most used words.

Shane tried again. "I'm a spy for the Union," he told her. "France was a mission of mine." He looked down at his hands and said quietly, "Getting you from the camp was another."

"That's why you shot me," Mitchie said, trying to put the pieces together.

"I didn't shoot you," Shane corrected her. "I _couldn't_ have shot you. It was one of our sharpest shooters that did it. You'll meet up with him again later."

Mitchie frowned. "Again?" she asked.

Shane nodded. "You already know him," he told her. "Jason Black."

Mitchie's eyes widened. "He's a spy for the Union? But, he was in a Confederate camp!"

"As where you," Shane pointed out, smile on his face. "And you're neither a supporter of the Union nor a male."

"Touché," Mitchie responded with a slight bow of her head.

"He was the one who told us that you were in the camp," Shane continued. "It was safe to say that I was rather surprised that you were there. Eventually, the pieces fit together and everyone decided that you needed to be rescued before you got yourself killed." Shane smiled. "Jason was the one that looked after you, and I'm pretty sure that he saved your life."

"How so?" Mitchie questioned, and they both knew that she was thinking about the shooting.

"Well," Shane began, making sure that Mitchie recognized the teasing lilt in his voice, "first of all, you don't listen to directions very well. Jason told you to stay close to the tent for a reason. When you came out into the open, you were fair game, and someone took a shot at you that wasn't supposed to, so you can blame yourself for the first gunshot wound. He saved your life by shooting you again and knocking you unconscious instead of letting someone else kill you, and he saved you from having to fight as a young man by making your fellow soldiers think of you as dead."

Mitchie grinned as she processed all that information. "Is that all?" she asked dryly.

Shane responded just as dryly, "Probably not, but that's all I can think of at the moment."

"So," Mitchie began, "what do you do here? And better yet, where is 'here'?"

"'Here' is a tiny, rundown shack that we've made into a base. It took a long time to create all these tunnels under the shack, but it's the perfect hiding place. As to what we do, we're an organization of spies loyal to President Lincoln. We gather information wherever he needs it."

"Was getting to know me a mission?" Mitchie asked quietly, the question nagging at her mind.

Shane shook his head. "No. I met you the day before we were supposed to leave France." He smiled. "You became a personal mission of mine, but you weren't a government mission."

Mitchie blushed but moved on. "And do I get to leave when I feel better?"

Shane's face fell a little, but he nodded. "If that's what you'd like. We can send you back home looking like a typical prisoner of war, and your parents will never know what side you're really on."

"But?" Mitchie prompted, sensing that there was more to the offer.

"But I was hoping that you would consider staying with us," Shane added. "You told me back in France that you despised slavery. Here's your chance to do something to change it."

Mitchie thought about Mitchell and Anna, about the other slaves back home, and about her parents. She knew that she couldn't go back home, prisoner of war or not. It was time that she made her own life, and if she was going to do so, she might as well put everything on the line. "What would you have me do?" she asked.

Shane grinned, realizing that her question was an affirmative answer. "The main branch that you'd work with have all discussed the matter, and after your little masquerade, they've decided exactly where to put you." Mitchie waited for him to continue, but his next words floored her.

"We want you to become a spy."

**A/N: Did you expect that? Let me know! :D**


	28. Why?

**This is Prompt No. 80-Why?**

Silence is a potent sound. It can either indicate that a person is carefully considering whatever proposition the other might have expressed, or it can simply mean that the person is attempting to think up a way to politely refuse the offer. In drastic cases, silence might even mean that the person is planning routes of escape. Unfortunately, Mitchie's face was blank, giving absolutely no sign as to whether or not she was planning any one of these ideas.

Finally, Mitchie eloquently asked, "What?"

"We want you to become a spy," Shane reiterated. "For the Union."

Mitchie was still looking confused when she said, "But why me? I'm not anyone special."

"None of us were considered 'special' when the UUS found us and asked us to work for them," Shane told Mitchie.

"UUS?" Mitchie asked.

Shane nodded. "Union Underground Support," he explained. "They approached certain people and asked them to lend their abilities to the cause in a different way than fighting." He smiled at Mitchie and added, "My guess is that your talents for masquerade could be used very well, but not on the battlefield."

Mitchie raised her chin slightly, defiantly. "I didn't join the army for fun," she informed him. "I did it to save my brother."

Shane's eyes seemed to darken for a moment, and Mitchie detected a sadness in them, but then they closed off their emotions once more. "I know," he told her softly.

Mitchie was quiet for a moment before she said, "I'm not sure what you'd have me do, but I want to do it."

Shane nodded. "Thank you," he said. "What you'll 'do' right now is rest up. You won't be going anywhere until you're fully healed. After that, you do whatever needs doing. For instance," he explained ticking off his instances on his fingers, "you might need to go into town and gossip with an overly zealous woman about the sites of the Confederate camps, or you might need to play the part of an off duty soldier." Shane grinned. "I'm sure that one would be quite conducive to your interests."

Mitchie pretended to look injured. "Hmph!" was all she said, dismissing the remark gallantly. Her revenge would come later, she was sure.

"And you might even need to work with Caitlyn," Shane told Mitchie. His voice changed as he spoke the last option, and Mitchie had a feeling that she wouldn't be working there (wherever _there_ was) unless she absolutely needed to.

Mitchie smiled at Caitlyn's name being mentioned. "I like Caitlyn," she said. "She's very sweet."

Shane smiled and nodded. "She likes you," he assured her.

"Really?"

Shane had to smile at the eagerness with which Mitchie asked the question. "Really," he responded.

As if on cue, Caitlyn came through the door, carrying a small, vile-looking bottle. "Hey again," she chirped, making both of the young people smile at her exuberance. "I brought your medication. Do you want it now?"

Mitchie bit her lip. "Will it put me to sleep again?"

In that moment, Shane sensed the discomfort Mitchie now felt towards sleeping. He knew from experience that the trip from consciousness to unconsciousness and back again was not a pleasant one, so he offered, "If you'd like, I'll stay with you while you fall asleep."

Mitchie hesitated, but nodded, grateful. "Thank you," she said. "It seems silly, but the darkness now frightens me."

Shane squeezed her hand. "That's perfectly natural and not silly at all."

Caitlyn nodded. "I won't give you a lot," she promised. "I'll just give you enough to take the edge off the pain. Fair enough?"

Mitchie nodded. "Yes," she said quietly.

Caitlyn administered the morphine and then she sat down next to Shane and Mitchie. "Have you two gotten caught up yet?" she asked, trying to keep a light conversation going until Mitchie fell asleep.

Shane nodded. "Almost. She's agreed to help in our cause."

Caitlyn looked startled for a moment and then grinned. "Great!" she chirped, but then her face fell once again. "She's not going to be helping me, is she?"

Shane shook his head. "No, she'll be used somewhere else."

Mitchie cocked her head to the side, feeling confused. _"Perhaps it's the medication taking affect," _she thought. "Why?" she asked, causing both of her friends to turn and look at her.

"Why what?" Caitlyn asked evasively.

"Why would you not want me to work with you?" Mitchie asked, fighting hard to keep her eyes open against the pull of the drugs.

Caitlyn cast a nervous glance at Shane, begging him to field the question. He did, and answered, "Caitlyn's work is rather…delicate. We'll explain it to you later, okay?"

Satisfied that it had nothing to do with not liking her, Mitchie nodded. "Okay," she said, but it came out more like a sigh, and she let herself relax, slipping into the folds of sleep.

**A/N: Any guesses as to what Caitlyn actually does? ;) Let me know!**


	29. Poetry

**This is Prompt No. 65-Poetry**

"I've come to entertain you," Shane announced one day as he strode through the door, a small book under his arm.

Mitchie, sitting up in bed, giggled. "It's working already," she assured him.

He grinned at her and sank into the chair that was ever present at her bedside. "Good," he said, brushing off her teasing remark. "I'm glad my mere presence brings such joy to your life."

"Oh it does," Mitchie responded, but her tone was no longer teasing. The truth of her words startled Shane, but he soon grinned. He started to say something, no doubt about the current subject, but Mitchie quickly changed the subject. "What did you bring me today?"

"A book of poems," Shane told her, holding up the work carefully so as to not break the brittle pages. "I thought you might like to read some of them."

Mitchie smiled at his thoughtfulness. "If you help me to the chair by the fire," she bargained, "you and I can read it together."

Shane smiled. "Sounds perfect to me." He tucked the small book under his arm and stood, reaching down to pick Mitchie up from the bed, cradling her injured side as he strode to the chair by the fire. He settled some blankets around her to keep her from getting cold, and asked, "Do you need more?"

Mitchie shook her head and couldn't help but smile at his attentiveness. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Come and sit."

She indicated the chair across from her and smiled again, coaxing him into no longer fussing. "Fine," he relented and seated himself in the chair.

"What kind of poems are they?" Mitchie inquired.

Shane glanced down at the book and then looked at her, slightly embarrassed. "Honestly, I don't know. It was the only poems book on the shelves in the library, so I took it without looking."

Mitchie giggled. "I'm sure they're fine, no matter what."

Shane nodded and opened the book, thumbing through the pages. "What would you like me to read?" he asked, indicating that there was a whole table of contents based on the nature of the poems.

Mitchie shrugged, cuddling into her blankets. "I don't care. Pick one you think you'd like."

For a moment, Shane peered through the pages, his brow furrowed slightly as he tried to digest the strange language of poems. Suddenly, and without warning, he let out a laugh. He looked at Mitchie, still laughing, and choked out, "Sorry."

Mitchie craned her neck in an effort to see what he had been reading, but could not make it out. "What on earth?" she asked. "What's so funny?" His laughter was infectious, and she had a hard time keeping her face straight as she asked, "I doubt the writers would be too thrilled if they found out that you were making fun of them. It takes a long time to come up with a great poem, you know."

Her authoritative manner only made Shane laugh harder. "Yes," he chuckled, nodding. "I'm sure this took a great deal of time and effort!" His words came out slightly garbled since he laughed as he talked.

Mitchie couldn't bear not knowing what he had been reading, so she requested, "Would you read it to me?"

Shane nodded, still laughing, and tried to control his chortles long enough so that he could explain, "I looked under 'Romance,' and this is what I found." He turned back to the book and read:

"_Please be mine_

_Think you're swell_

_Else I'll push you down the well" (Taken from The Immigrant Diary of Ivy Weatherall pg.156)  
_

His eyes met Mitchie's and they both burst out laughing. "A truly romantic gesture," Shane crowed, making them laugh even more. When they finally settled down, Shane looked at Mitchie smugly. "And that, my dear, took years to put into writing."

That sent them off once again, laughing so hard that Mitchie was forced to hold her shoulder to keep it from vibrating too much. "Oh stop!" she cried, still laughing.

They finally quieted down, but for the rest of the time they spent examining the other poems in the book, they exchanged glances that bordered on laughter-starters. Finally, Shane closed the book and said, "I think that's enough. I don't understand how people can understand that." He shrugged and added, "Maybe I don't have enough of a poetic mind."

Mitchie nodded, trying to keep back a giggle. "That _must_ be it," she told him.

Shane glanced back at the book, and his teasing features slipped into a more tender expression. "I have an idea," he told her.

**A/N: Guessing time! What's his idea? Let me know what you think! :D**


	30. Relationship

**This is Prompt No. 18-Relationship**

The abruptness of the subject change surprised Mitchie and all she could say was, "Okay. What?" The word "what" was quickly becoming one of her most-used words in her vocabulary when she was around Shane.

Shane seemed to pause, as though he needed to gather the courage to speak once again, and said, "I would like permission to court you."

Mitchie's mouth dropped open for a moment, and she sat, stunned. After a moment, she managed to say, "Why would you even think that you'd need permission?" Her grin as she spoke caused him to smile as well and he stood from his chair, crossing the few feet necessary to gently lift her hand to his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Mitchie couldn't help but continue blinking, and ended up replying dazedly, "No, thank you."

Shane smiled at her reaction and kissed her hand again, brushing his lips over her knuckles just to see what would happen. Her eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, and then they focused back on him, looking embarrassed.

"I have a question," she told him.

"Okay," he said with a smile.

"Where do spies go for courting purposes?" The humor in her voice indicated that she was teasing him.

"Wherever we want to go," Shane responded, teasing her right back. "As spies, we can slip into any place, any time, and no one questions us, if they're even so lucky as to see us." The smugness in his voice made Mitchie laugh.

"Is that so?" she asked with a grin.

Shane nodded. "It is," he responded, unable to keep from winking at her.

Mitchie smiled. "Now seriously," she said, "where would we go?"

Shane thought for a moment and then responded, "We could always go to the plays. Even President Lincoln goes to the theater, so we can easily fit in."

"That sounds like fun," Mitchie agreed. "When can we go?"

Her eagerness made Shane smile and he responded, "As soon as you get to feeling better, we'll go, but I think we should go as a group. We don't want everyone to know that we're courting."

Mitchie frowned. Was he embarrassed by her already? "Why not?" she asked.

Shane smiled. "You haven't seen the base yet. With so many people around, a secret like that's bound to get out somehow and then if it gets into the wrong hands, we have a weak point. No, only our section should know about it."

"The section being whom?"

"Jason, the general, Caitlyn, and Nate," Shane said as he ticked off each person on his fingers as he said their names.

"They all have to know?" Mitchie asked hesitantly.

Shane frowned. "Why would you not want them to know?" he asked.

"Because they might not like me," she responded quietly.

"Jason already likes you, Caitlyn likes you, Nate's protective of you even though he's only seen you once in France, and the general will like you because you're you." Shane smiled and kissed her forehead. "That's why I like you too," he said softly.

Mitchie smiled as well, the edge taken off her fear of dislike. The world seemed perfect, right now, she was sure. Her shoulder and arm were healing nicely with no sign of infection thanks to Caitlyn's careful ministrations. She had just accepted the courting invitation of the only young man to ever catch her eye, and she was going to be starting a mission that she could have only dreamed about a year ago. Everything should be perfect, right? Wrong.

Shane sensed that something was wrong by the way Mitchie suddenly became quiet and her eyes took on a troubled look. He sat down on the floor so that he could look up at her and asked, "Regretting saying yes already?"

She smiled slightly and shook her head. "No," she assured him. "I'm just thinking about Mitchell and Anna. They were going to try and get word to me as soon as they could." She stared into the fire for a long while, her thoughts consumed by what-ifs about her brother and his wife. "They must think I'm dead," she said, looking back up at Shane as if he was supposed to verify that her guess was correct.

He nodded. "Your parents certainly think that Mitchell's dead," he told her, "which is what you wanted, right?"

"Not quite," Mitchie admitted, "but it'll work."

Shane tapped his chin in thought. "I'll see what I can do," he promised. "I have some contacts around that might turn out to be rather helpful. Is that alright with you?"

Mitchie smiled and nodded vigorously. "Yes, thank you," she said. She gave a little sigh and said, "You all have done so much for me, I don't deserve it."

Shane smiled and kissed her forehead again. "You deserve it alright," he told her. "Your goal now is to get rested up. As soon as you do that, we can go to the theater." He winked at her, and Mitchie smiled. Under any other circumstances, this interaction would have been frowned upon. Under worst case scenarios, after being left alone like this for so long, Shane would have been forced to marry her already. Wait, did she just compare that to a worse case?

Hiding the mind battle going on inside her head, Mitchie returned the smile. "My arm feels better already."

**A/N: Of course it's feeling better! ;) Hoped you all liked Shane's "idea." Let me know what you think!**


	31. Jokes

**This is Prompt No. 23-Jokes**

"Are you sure you can handle this?" Shane asked three weeks after he had approached Mitchie about courting her, one arm stretched out towards, but not touching, Mitchie's back as she stood and began walking around. The walking wasn't what disturbed Shane. It was the fact that Mitchie was swinging her healed arm around as she walked that had him concerned.

Mitchie rolled her eyes. "Please, Shane!" she begged. "I'm fine. I want to get out of this room. I want to go to the theater, and I want to see this base that I've been kept in and yet haven't seen!"

Shane chuckled at her little rant. She really thought that he was going to deny her that? "I _want _to take you out so that you can see the base," he assured her. "I _want_ to go to the theater with you, and I _want_ you to meet everyone. I just want you to take it a little slower. You've just started feeling better, and I don't want you to have to spend more time back in this room. Promise me you'll slow down?"

Mitchie saw his point and stopped swinging her arm, wiping the stubborn look off her face as well. He wasn't going to hold her back, so why be obstinate? "Very well," she said, sighing for dramatic effect. In a moment, she was pulling on Shane's sleeve, trying to get out the door of her room. "Come on!" she pleaded. "I want to go."

With a chuckle, Shane opened the door for her and led her out into the hallway, almost running into her, for she had stopped so suddenly. "Is something wrong?" he asked, speaking right into her ear.

Mitchie gazed around her and said, "This is not exactly what I had expected."

Shane chuckled once again, knowing exactly what she meant. Her room was one of many, with tunnels forking out in all different directions. Small, barely legible signs were the only way to tell which tunnel went where. People scurried about, eyeing the couple and nodding. Some even called out a greeting.

"Hey there, Miss Mitchie!" a portly woman called as she scurried past. "Glad you see you up and about!"

Mitchie raised her hand in greeting and turned questioningly to Shane. "That's Mrs. Bedford, the cook," he explained and then added with a grin, "She's the one that makes that pudding you like so much."

At this news, Mitchie stared after the bustling woman. "Her?" she asked excitedly. "I love her already!" Her teasing made Shane smile and they continued on.

Throughout dodging other people coming up and down the hallways, a few people tipped their hats or smiled at Mitchie as she passed, speaking a quick, kind remark to her. Each person that spoke to her received a nod and a smile, and generally a "thank you," from Mitchie. Once they were safely out of earshot, Shane would then explain who they were.

Finally, Shane led Mitchie down a quiet hall and stopped in front of one of the doors. He knocked and was commanded, "Enter!"

Mitchie stepped inside while Shane held the door open for her and as soon as she stepped inside, she heard a shriek. "Mitchie!" Caitlyn, dressed in a fashionable crème-colored dress, launched herself at Mitchie, somehow avoiding Mitchie's recovering arm in her loving throttle. She pushed her away at arm's length and nodded. "Yes, that dress definitely suits you."

Mitchie glanced down at the borrowed dress of Caitlyn's and smiled. "Thank you so much for letting me use it," she said.

"You're more than welcome. What do you think of the base?" Caitlyn asked. "Was it what you expected?" Her gleeful tone indicated that she doubted it.

"No, it wasn't at all," Mitchie said, confirming Caitlyn's guess. "This place is huge!"

Caitlyn nodded. "Part of the base is under Confederate territory and they don't even realize it." She put a hand over her lips and blushed. "I completely forgot to introduce you!" She turned around and for the first time, Mitchie saw three others standing quietly in the room.

"Hello, Mitchie," one said, stepping closer.

Mitchie smiled as she remembered the face. "Hello to you as well, Jason. I believe I own you thanks for saving my life?"

He smiled back. "No thanks necessary. Shane thanked me over and over…and over again, so he covered your thanks for you." The teasing joke on Shane made Mitchie smile, and she turned to the next person standing there.

"Mitchie, this is my _husband_, Nate Grey," Caitlyn told her friend, stressing the word "husband" and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as she thought back to the first day she had met Mitchie and her last name had confused the girl.

Mitchie laughed and Shane turned to her, confused. "Did I miss something?" he asked.

Caitlyn waved him off. "Inside joke," she explained, trying not to laugh.

Mitchie swallowed her laughter and smiled at Nate. "I'm pleased to meet you," she said, "again."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "You remember me?"

Mitchie nodded. "You were in France with Shane, weren't you?"

Nate nodded. "You have an excellent memory," he complimented.

"And this is the man in charge of everything," Caitlyn said turning away from her husband. "Mitchie, this is General Blake."

The general nodded at Mitchie, smiling as he said, "Finally! I finally get to meet the young lady responsible for Shane's elevated heart rate."

Jason let out a snort and Caitlyn laughed even as Shane's face reddened with embarrassment. Mitchie blushed but had to smile at the general. She liked him already. "You're not supposed to tell her everything!" Shane exclaimed, his voice borderline whining.

The general strode over and clapped him on the back. "Oh lighten up," he teased the younger man. "These missions have made you far too serious." He turned to Mitchie and asked, "Do you think you can get him to loosen up a bit while you're around?"

Mitchie caught the wink he sent her and she nodded with a smile. She looked around at these new people, friends already, and her smile grew wider. Already, the base was beginning to feel like home. "I'll do my best," she promised with a wink of her own.

**A/N: Hoped you liked the chapter! Let me know what you think! :D**


	32. Broadway

**This is Prompt No 63-Broadway**

Once everyone was ready to go, Jason led the way out of the base. Mitchie was sorry to leave the general, but he had waved them off, telling them to "go have fun and enjoy yourselves." Soon, with her arm linked with Shane's, she was laughing away with the others in the group as they made their way toward to exit.

"There are two exits," Caitlyn explained. "One is at the border of Virginia, where we found you, and the other comes up a few miles from Washington. That's where we're headed."

Jason led them down another tunnel, and Mitchie found this one to be laid out with tracks on the ground. The tunnel was larger than all the others, and instead of people, it was filled with horses and buggies, one team per track. "This is how we cover such a long distance," Shane explained in Mitchie's ear as she looked around, amazed at the system they had engineered.

As she looked over the strong, muscular horses, Mitchie turned to Shane and said, "I thought the soldiers took all the horses for the war. How did you get these?"

Shane smiled mysteriously. "Shh," he teased. "Don't tell the Confederates."

Mitchie and Caitlyn laughed and Nate turned and spoke to Mitchie. "The horses are smuggled down here for this purpose," he said, motioning to the tracks and the buggies. "The organization would fail if we didn't have a quick way to get to the president."

Mitchie glanced around again and shook her head. "This place is amazing," she said again.

Jason motioned to the group from one of the larger buggies. "Come on!" he called good-naturedly. "We still have a bit of a drive ahead of us!"

Shane led Mitchie over and helped her into the buggy, and then Nate boosted Caitlyn up before the two young men climbed in as well. Jason hopped into the front seat next to the driver and then they were off, the buggy lurching forward at a fast pace as the tracks aided the horse's speed. "This is amazing!" Mitchie said once again, unable to stop herself from saying the same thing over and over as she leaned close to Shane.

"I know," he replied. Seeing her leaning forward eagerly, Shane smiled and gave her a slight push backwards. "It's a bit of a drive. Make yourself comfortable."

Mitchie motioned to the crook in his arm. "May I?" she asked shyly.

He smiled brightly. "Absolutely!"

Mitchie snuggled into Shane's embrace and gave a small sigh. She let herself relax as the miles ticked by, the tracks aiding the speed in a way Mitchie had never seen before. "Who designed these?" she asked Shane.

"We have a scientist at the base," Shane explained. "Actually, he's my uncle. His name's Brown and he came up with the idea. The horse literally feels weightless, so it can run much faster and further."

"Your uncle's brilliant," Mitchie remarked, and Shane just nodded, ending their conversation for a while.

In a couple of hours, Shane nudged Mitchie gently and said, "We're almost there."

She sat up and stretched, feeling stiff for a few moments. Up ahead, she could see the end of the track and a staircase. "Where does it lead?" she asked Caitlyn, who had started to stretch beside her.

"It leads up to one of the old prop houses of the theater," Caitlyn told her. "No one ever goes in there, so it was the perfect place to tunnel to. Plus, we know the owner."

The driver slowed the buggy and stepped down to open the side door so that Shane and Nate could step out and assist their ladies. The group thanked him and then mounted the stairs, Shane letting Nate and Caitlyn go first. In a bold move, he reached for Mitchie's hand, hoping that she wouldn't pull away. She didn't. Instead, she curled her fingers around his hand, letting a smile ghost over her lips.

When Mitchie stepped up into the prop house through the barely-perceptible trap door, she couldn't help but blink. The light was dim in the room, obscuring most of the objects. Nate reached out and lifted her up, saying, "Don't worry. Your eyes will adjust."

"I'll trust you," Mitchie responded with a grin, feeling the darkness beginning to wear off already as more and more shapes became perceptible.

Once Shane had come up the stairs as well, Jason followed and the group exited the prop room, finding themselves in a deserted hallway. "Come on," Jason said, motioning for them all to follow him. "The play'll begin soon."

Mitchie and the others followed him soundlessly as they exited the theater through the stage door and made their way around to the front where the line was to get inside. Mitchie glance around, taking in the wide street and the many shops that crowded around the theater. "What is this place called?" she asked Jason, who was standing close to her.

Jason shook his head. "No one's ever come up with a name for this old place," he said.

"They should call it Broadway," Mitchie remarked.

"Why's that?" he asked curiously.

Mitchie motioned to the width of the street. "It's very wide," she explained, and then shrugged. "Broadway just seems to fit."

"Broadway," Jason repeated, rolling the name around on his tongue. "Yes, it does sound quite good," he admitted. He smiled and touched her shoulder lightly. "Who knows? Maybe one day it'll be named Broadway."

They smiled and turned away as the line began to move into the theater. Shane once again took Mitchie's hand and led her to her seat even as the play began. For the next two hours, the group of young spies sat just as enraptured as the other, regular people of Washington, completely removed from the horrors of war. But unlike the other people, the young spies knew that there were more horrors to come.

**A/N: Uh oh! Trouble's coming! Please review and tell me what you think! :D Also, I realize that Broadway is actually in New York, but since Broadway had not been created yet, I thought I might give a possible background to the name! ;)  
**


	33. Summer

**This is Prompt No. 85-Summer**

And so, with the threat of a continued war looming over their heads, the different agents began to train with Mitchie, finding shelter in the base from both the heat of the summer days and the clatter of muskets. Each agent possessed a different talent, and they used them to give Mitchie as thorough a preparation as they possibly could.

Mitchie began with Shane, who turned out to be a master of disguise. He showed her how to change her appearance within seconds, a useful tool when being pursued, she was told. Not satisfied until she could slip in and out of costumes with the ease of an animal shedding its skin, Mitchie took to practicing in her room. Many times, Shane would knock on her door around midnight and find her still practicing. Then, he would chase her into bed, telling her that he wouldn't show her any other tricks unless she went to bed and got some rest.

Once she was comfortable slipping into any disguise, Mitchie was put through a mock test, which she easily passed. As he instructed her to begin her next training classes, the general wore a huge grin of satisfaction. "Well done, my dear," he had said that day, "well done indeed."

The next person to train her was Caitlyn, and Mitchie found that she was in for a shock. Dear, sweet, sometimes-tart Caitlyn was actually a master swordswoman. The first time Mitchie walked into the practice arena, a small little room in the base, her jaw had nearly dropped to the floor. For a moment, she questioned whether or not Caitlyn was playing a joke on her, but upon seeing a demonstration fight between Caitlyn and Nate, Mitchie soon believed her friend.

Caitlyn's course turned out to be one of the hardest for Mitchie, due to her tender arm. Although it was perfectly healed, Mitchie was still wary around it, and every once in a while, she would complete a formation with her long knife and would feel a sharp little pain of protest. The pain only caused her to push herself harder, turning to practicing her fighting at night instead of her costume changes.

The day finally came, though, that she was able to beat Caitlyn in a practice fight, knocking her knife out of her hand. After that, Mitchie was put to the test battling out Nate, who was more aggressive than Caitlyn, if that could be believed, and she passed that test as well. Once again, the general was excited over her progress and each of the members of the team cheered for her.

Next came Jason, whose skill centered around weaponry. Unlike Caitlyn's weapons, he specialized in shooting, and for a while, sections of the base vibrated with the force of shooting lessons, sponsored by the gunpowder he had taken off the Confederate army's hands. Mitchie was not just taught battle formation firing, though. She was also taught how to whirl around, firing as she did so and hitting the target.

"That's a necessary skill," Jason had told her. "You never know, as a spy, when you might need that skill."

She had practiced with rifles and pistols, shooting at targets of every size all around the room until she could hit almost every target with relative ease. Then, they had moved on to archery. Jason did not believe that archery would come in very handy, but he had shrugged his shoulders as he handed Mitchie her bow and a quiver full of arrows. "You never know what you'll be doing."

Mitchie passed his class as well, and had then moved on to the last class, Nate's class. There, she learned self-defense and hand-to-hand combat. Many nights, she would return to her room, tired and sore from having been pushed down on the mat several times. Nate would never hit her, but sometimes he would push her down onto the ground, just to show her what could happen. Mitchie practiced hard even after her lessons, engaging Shane and Caitlyn in fights so that she could practice.

Finally, Mitchie was able to pass his class as well, and the final exam came. In it, she would be tested on each of her skills and how well she could accomplish them. Her survival might depend on her skills one day. The first test was Caitlyn. She came out, swinging to long knives so quickly that the air around her made a "whooshing" sound. A year or so ago, that sight would have frightened Mitchie, but now, she held her ground and raised her own knives to fight.

She passed Caitlyn's test and then moved on to Jason's. Jason's was a test of skill involving dodging arrows without the tips on them and firing at quickly moving targets. Mitchie passed easily and moved on to Nate's test of combat.

She surprised herself by how easily the movements came after the many hours of practice. Her reflexes were sharp and she could almost anticipate each move before it came, simply by observing Nate's body movements. She passed the test by dropping to the ground and thrusting her leg out, taking his legs out from under him in a surprise move.

Although the unexpected fall took the breath out of him for a moment, Nate stood up smiling. "Very nicely done," he praised her, even as the rest of the team cheered.

Mitchie bowed, trying unsuccessfully to keep the smile off her face. "Thank you," she said.

Shane's test was last, and Mitchie easily slipped from one outfit to the other, even rearranging her hairstyles at an astonishing pace. Any other woman would have thought the changes impossible, but Caitlyn had shown Mitchie some tricks that had aided her transformations greatly. Mitchie passed the last test and turned to the general, waiting for the results. Had her skills been enough to allow her to help serve as a spy, or was she still not ready?

"Well?" she asked, surprised that her voice still held the same, vulnerable quality to it. She had figured that everything about her would change, but it seemed that some qualities had stayed the same.

The general smiled. "You've done remarkably well," he told her, "given the timeframe we set for you. You should be very proud of yourself. You've taken one summer to learn quite a lot." His fingertips pressed together as he gazed down at the file in front of him. "Yes, I think you're ready for your first assignment."

"Really?"

The general looked up at her, surprised. "Well, if you don't think you're ready for it, you can wait a little longer," he told her, mistaking her question for hesitancy.

"No, no." Mitchie recanted. "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant that I was surprised that you thought I was ready."

The general nodded, understanding. "I understand. You're first job will be with Caitlyn."

"No!" The cry came from Caitlyn and she leapt forward, shaking her head vigorously.

Mitchie looked at her, startled. "Why not?" she asked. Had she misjudged Caitlyn's friendliness as just that and not obligation?

Caitlyn turned to the general. "You can't send her with me on her first mission. It's too dangerous." She turned back to Mitchie and smiled. "Not that you can't take care of yourself," she told her, "but it's not a good place for you to start out."

The general objected. "Of course it is, Caitlyn. She'll be fine, and it's one of our safest missions right now. Plus," he said, turning his voice into a wheedling tone, "you'd be there if anything should go wrong."

The flattery was lost on Caitlyn as she scoffed. "And blow my own cover?"

The general shook his head. "You won't do that because Mitchie will be just fine. She can take care of herself now, and this mission is a good one to start her on. If it doesn't go well, we don't have to worry about it too much."

Caitlyn shrugged, grudgingly accepting defeat on this subject. "I hope you know what you're doing," was all she said.

The general dipped his head in acknowledgement of her surrender. "I assure you," he told her, "I do."

The discourse had perked Mitchie's interest even more, and she spoke up, saying, "Now you've really interested me."

The general turned back to her and smiled. "Are you sure you want to start right now?" he asked, graciously giving her one last out if she felt remotely uncomfortable with her abilities.

However, she didn't, and she nodded. "Yes, sir," she said.

The general rearranged the folder in front of him and handed it to her with a smile. "Then this mission should be just right for you and your love of masquerades." He winked to assure her that he was teasing her. "My dear, you are now Lieutenant William Perry."

**A/N: Guesses as to what's going to happen??? Let me know!**


	34. Club

**This is Prompt No. 79-Club**

Two nights later, Mitchie stood in front of her mirror, buttoning each of the dull brass buttons on her rather used gray uniform. She pulled on the waistband of the pants, trying to pull the pants up a little further so that they did not look quite so long. Obviously, the last person to wear this uniform had been taller. She studied herself in the mirror, fingering her short hair and running her fingers through it. Caitlyn had just given it another trim so that it looked presentable as a lieutenant's hair might. Tonight was the night, Mitchie knew, that would test her newfound skills, and she was anxious as well as excited.

She crossed the room and sat of her bed, curling up against the pillows as she fingered the file that held all of Lieutenant Perry's information. Though the Lieutenant had never existed, the UUS had enough contacts that would vouch for his existence. She would at least be safe on that account. Mitchie flipped through the file again, running over every single fact given to her that she had had to learn.

A tap at the door made Mitchie jump and she hurried to answer the door. Caitlyn stood there, dressed in a bright, low cut dress with white lace around the edges. "Are you ready to go?" she asked.

Mitchie barely heard her. She was staring at her friend in shock. Why, she was positively indecent! "What are you wearing?" she managed to ask after a long moment.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "You'll understand when we get there," she told Mitchie. "You remember the general's advice, right?"

Mitchie nodded, remembering the few lessons in card games he had given her over the past two days. "But I don't understa-"

"You will when we get there," Caitlyn responded. She eyed Mitchie up and down and asked, "Does the uniform fit you?"

Mitchie nodded. "The trousers are a little long, but I can make do."

Caitlyn nodded. "Then we'd better get going," she said and stepped aside so that Mitchie could make her way out of her room. "This way," she said.

Mitchie followed her and found herself striding toward the other end of the base than she was used to. Soon, she and Caitlyn were riding up and rope system that looked very much like a shelf. A shelf it turned out to be as Caitlyn stepped out first to help Mitchie out. Mitchie looked around and realized that this dingy little place she was now in must be the old house they had all talked about. "This is the house, right?" she asked in order to be sure."

Caitlyn nodded and led the way outside where the two young women found a horse saddled and ready to ride. "Dear Nate," Caitlyn said, smiling for the first time that night. "He thinks of everything." She mounted first and then said, "You can ride behind me until we get close to the place."

Mitchie chose not to ask questions and just nodded, swinging up into the saddle easily now that she didn't have to worry about skirts and petticoats getting in the way. She hung on the Caitlyn as the latter grabbed the horse's reins and spurred it on in the direction of the army camp that Mitchie had once been a part of.

But soon, it was obvious that the two young women were heading further into the civilization of Virginia. Lights appeared in town and Caitlyn reined her horse in. She motioned for Mitchie to dismount and then said, "Go on until you reach the town. You'll find a place called The Red Cat. Come find me in there." She smiled at Mitchie for the first time and said, "Good luck, Lieutenant Perry." And then she was gone, urging the horse on towards the town.

Mitchie walked swiftly in the direction Caitlyn had gone, willing herself to get to wherever she was going quickly. The faster she arrived, the quicker her mission could begin and end, hopefully with good results. She fingered the pistol secured at her thigh and touched the hilt of the knife secreted under the cloth of her other thigh. Everything was primed and ready for use, but Mitchie hoped she wouldn't need them.

As she drew near the town, she could hear the sound of course laughter, and the beat of a tinny piano screeching out an old tune. Mitchie looked around her, noticing that the streets were mostly deserted, and that the few people that were still on the streets were headed toward a large building at the end of town. She squinted and was able to make out the sign, painted in a blood red color: **The Red Cat**.

"Oh no," she whispered quietly. She made her way down the sidewalk, forcing herself to keep her head up as she passed other men heading the same way. _"Remember you're a soldier,"_ she reminded herself as she tipped the brim of her hat to two saloon girls hanging around the front door to the saloon. "Evening, ladies," she said, surprised at how easy it was to slip right back into the mannerisms and the way of talking she had adopted before.

The two women cooed a hello as Mitchie passed and she forced herself not to blush. If only they knew! As soon as she stepped inside, Mitchie wanted to turn and run. The whole saloon was lit up with bright kerosene lights that made the ugly colored walls look reasonably colorful. A haze of smoke hung in the air from the many patrons that were smoking cigars or cigarettes, and everyone had a small glass in hand filled with a bronze-colored liquid. Mitchie gulped. This was not a place for respectable women. Upon thinking such a thought, Mitchie squared her shoulders. Tonight, she was not a woman. Tonight, she was Lieutenant William Perry of the Confederate Army fourth division.

She squared her shoulders and took a more calculating look around. Few people were acknowledging her presence, which was a good thing since she kept staring, unaccustomed to this kind of behavior. But her jaw dropped when she looked toward the bar, for there, flirting with another, drunken soldier, stood Caitlyn. She had her hands on the soldier's arm and she was laughing away even as she handed him another glass of whatever concoction he was drinking. She looked up and spotted Mitchie, her mouth still hanging open, and motioned for her to come closer.

Mitchie wove her way through the crowd and found herself at the bar. Caitlyn batted her eyelashes at her and said, "Well good evening, soldier. Care for a drink?"

Mitchie, too stunned by this uncharacteristic behavior of Caitlyn's, simply nodded and seated herself on a convenient stool. The drunk soldier next to her took her silence for admiration and slapped her hard on the back, saying, "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Mitchie just nodded and slid onto the next seat, further away from the intoxicated man. Caitlyn came back, drink in hand and handed it to Mitchie, leaning over the table and whispering in her ear, "It's just dyed water."

Mitchie nodded and took a sip as Caitlyn moved away and waited for the other girl to return with further instructions. She did, a few minutes later by coming to sit on Mitchie's lap. Stunned, Mitchie could only blink at Caitlyn, who put her arms around Mitchie's neck and whispered, "Work with me here, or we're both dead." Complying, Mitchie put her arms loosely around Caitlyn's waist, listening as she started speaking in hushed tones.

"See that man over there?" she asked, giving an almost imperceptable nod in the proper direction. Mitchie turned and looking, almost immediately finding the man in question. She shivered as she looke at his rough, cruel features. Caitlyn went on. "His name is Nigel Lipsce. You want information, he'll give it to you, but only over a game of poker. You need to find out where the largest force of Confederates are stationed." She slid a small wad of notes into Mitchie's hand. "I hope you remember what the general taught you," she said, "because you, my dear Lieutenant Perry, are about to play some poker."


	35. Poker

**This is Prompt No. 22-Poker**

Mitchie choked on a sip of her colored water. "Wh-what?" she asked, confused.

"That's your mission," Caitlyn said in a low voice. "You can't back out now, Lieutenant Perry. There's no one else to do it around here."

"What about you?" Mitchie asked desperately. Oh if only she had paid more attention to the general's instructions! She hadn't realized that she was being prepped when he had asked her to play with him.

Caitlyn shook her head. "I'd blow my cover if I tried to play." She slid off Mitchie's lap, pressing a small stack of cards into Mitchie's hand as she did so. "You can't lose with those. Remember, he cheats," she said quietly before turning back to the bar, casting Mitchie one, last flirtatious smile, should anyone be watching.

Mitchie turned back to look at the men seated around the table, and couldn't help but gulp. They were all rough, beady-eyed men who had put on shiny vests and overcoats in the hopes of looking more presentable, and thus being more feared. Mitchie slipped the cards into her pocket, making sure that her hands were under the bar so that no one could see.

All of the sudden, Mitchie was forcing herself not to panic. Though she had been trained all summer, she still feared that she wouldn't be able to take on an actual criminal, or a person dedicated to stopping her. Her hands grew clammy and she rubbed them together, trying to get some of the blood back into them.

"I can do this," she finally said. All doubt about her abilities was pushed aside as she hopped down from the barstool.

She then began weaving through the crowd of people gathered, begging anyone's pardon when she happened to bump them. Finally, she came to stand in front of the table where Nigel Lipsce and he partners were seated. They were just dealing out the cards when Mitchie used every ounce of courage to ask, "Mind if I play with you gentlemen?"

Nigel looked up, surprised, with his cigar halfway to his mouth. He eyed the young man in front of him, his eyes focusing on the color of his uniform, the condition it was in, and the kind of boots he wore, for if anything was out of place, he would know that this young man was a spy. However, he found nothing and simply nodded, opening his meaty hands in a sweeping gesture.

"Of course!" he cried. "We're delighted to have another player, aren't we, boys?"

The others muttered their agreement and one spoke up. "There's too many people now," he said. "We'll have to use two decks."

Nigel waved his hand toward the one that had spoken. "Then find another deck!" he exclaimed, as though that was the easiest notion in the world.

Mitchie noticed him studying her, so she said, half rising from the seat she had sat down in, "I wouldn't want to impose on you all. I suppose I can find another game around here somewhere." She looked dryly around at the tables, where almost everyone was playing some kind of card game.

Nigel laughed, the sound sounding very much like braying. "No, no," he said, waving Mitchie back into her seat. "Sit. You're not a bother at all. Hank will just go find us another deck, won't you, Hank?"

Hank grumbled, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he stood suddenly, making his chair wobble. His eyes fixed in Mitchie for a moment, and then he shouldered past her, making her drop her glass of water. "Oh!" she exclaimed as the water sloshed over the table. "I'm sorry about that."

Nigel glared at his puppet and snapped his fingers. "Get a towel and another glass for the lieutenant as well," he ordered.

Hank only muttered, "Yes, boss."

When he had left, Nigel turned to Mitchie and began to ask her questions. "So which division are you stationed in, Lieutenant…" he trailed off, indicating that he didn't know her name.

"Perry," Mitchie supplied. "William Perry of the fourth division of the Confederate Army, at your service."

Nigel nodded. "Small division," he remarked.

Mitchie found her opportunity and nodded. "Yup," she said with a slight laugh. "One of the smallest there is for the Confederates. Me and my buddies were just talking about that the other day. We couldn't figure out which division was the biggest. Do you know?"

Nigel laughed and put up his hands. "Hey," he said, still chuckling. "There's something you should know about me, Lieutenant Perry." He grinned as he took a drag of his cigar. "I always mix business with pleasure."

Mitchie understood. He wouldn't say anything unless it could be said over a poker game. She mentally cursed herself for thinking that he might be that stupid as to give her an easy out without having to play. "I understand," she said with a winning smile. "We'll talk later?"

Nigel nodded and sat back in his chair. "Yes we shall," he said.

Mitchie turned and saw Hank accepting two drinks from another bartender, not Caitlyn, and she gulped. How was she going to drink whatever Hank had ordered for her? She'd never drunk alcohol in her life. But she didn't have much time to think about it, for he was already weaving around the tables and plunking the drink before her. "Thanks," she said.

Hank nodded and Nigel raised his shot glass in Mitchie's direction. "Cheers," he said. "It's on me."

Mitchie nodded, the action thanking him for a drink she hadn't wanted. She raised her glass slightly and then took a sip, stopping most of the liquid with her tongue from burning its way down her throat. She set the glass back down and turned to Nigel. "Shall we begin?"

Nigel nodded, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time before he put it back and settled his arms over his ample stomach. "Of course," he said. "Do we have some money for the pot?"

Mitchie took out the notes Caitlyn had handed her and tossed them flippantly onto the table, right in the middle of the circle of men. "Will that cover my share?" she asked coolly.

The look on Nigel's face told Mitchie that it was more than enough.

**A/N: What do you think is going to happen next? Let me know!**


	36. Greed

**This is Prompt No. 14-Greed**

Mitchie had a hard time refraining from scowling at Nigel as he eyed the stack of money she had thrown onto the table. He licked his lips and smiled at Mitchie. "You're quite an adventurous fellow," he said, "aren't you?"

Mitchie knew that he was testing her, trying to make her back down, for whatever she put down, he would have to either match or exceed. She grinned back and answered easily, "Hiding under a rock never benefited anyone." _"Hiding under an old house did, though,"_ she thought dryly, wishing once again that she could be safely at the base, going through her tests again.

Nigel chuckled, but his actions now sounded forced to Mitchie. "No it didn't," he agreed. He motioned to Hank and said, "Shuffle the cards, Hank."

Seeing one of the men eyeing her glass of alcohol, Mitchie forced herself to take another sip of the horrid-tasting liquid. _"How do people drink this for enjoyment?"_ she wondered, trying very hard not to make a face at the foul taste.

Though the room was full of people, Mitchie could barely hear any of the commotion going on. She looked up once and saw Caitlyn watching her. Mitchie gave her an almost imperceptible nod to let her know that she was alright and then turned back to the dealer at the table, Hank. She watched as he shuffled the cards, sometimes seeming to slip in his shuffling, and Mitchie realized that he was reshuffling the cards so that the right ones fell to Nigel.

"Would you cut?" Nigel asked politely, handing the stack of cards to Mitchie. She took the cards and split the deck in half. Nigel rearranged the two halves and started dealing, starting with the men on the other side of him.

When each person had been dealt five cards, Nigel sat back with his hand and nodded, throwing in a few notes. "Call," he said, indicating that he would match Mitchie's high bid.

Mitchie tried to refrain from rolling her eyes as she watched him cheat. His greed was making him sloppy, and Mitchie was sure that a couple other men not in his little group could see him slipping cards under the table because one young man opened his mouth and then closed it again, a frown on his face. She picked up her cards and tried hard to remember what the general had taught her.

With a pair of twos, a three, a seven, and a queen, Mitchie knew that she could never win. She looked around at the other men, trying to see if any of them would give away their emotions. Hank was stone faced, and when she looked his way, he scowled again at her, his hand creeping under the table to the gun belt he wore.

Mitchie quickly looked away. This was getting more and more dangerous. She looked up again and saw Caitlyn staring wide-eyed at her, a look of shock on her face. Apparently, things were not going as the UUS had planned. Mitchie bit her lip, focusing on the plays going on around the table. Even if this was going wrong, she would try and finish it the best she could. There was no way she was going to fail her first mission.

"The fourth division is rather small," Nigel repeated again, breaking the silence around the table as he put his cards face down and reached for his drink. "Why'd you get sent to that one?"

Mitchie put her hand into her breast pocket and pulled out a little worn book that had been given to her as a prop. "My father found this," she explained.

Nigel squinted, trying to see across the smoky table. "What is it?"

"It's a book of poems," Mitchie said, easily covering up the fact that there was nothing written on the pages within the little book. "He sent me off to become what he considered a 'real' man."

Nigel chortled. He looked Mitchie up and down and said, "Seems like you turned out alright. You still keep the book though?"

Mitchie nodded. "I like to read them out loud and think of Shania, my sweetheart." While she said it, Mitchie forced herself not to even crack a smile. She'd have to tell Shane about that later.

Nigel grinned and turned back to his cards. "Seems to me that the division near the south end of Georgia's the largest, at least the last time I heard."

His eyes seemed to pierce through Mitchie and she responded casually, "Maybe I should mosey on down to Georgia then."

She looked back down at her cards, feeling the weight of them in her hands and knowing that she would lose all the money she had been given if she didn't do something. Now that she had her information, she couldn't just put her cards down and fold. No, she had to keep going, but something was wrong. Even as she glanced down at her cards, she found that she couldn't see the numbers clearly. She blinked a few times, but her vision refused to clear up. A bright light went off somewhere, but Mitchie couldn't identify where it came from.

"Raise," someone said. Mitchie looked up, and the room started to spin. She gritted her teeth in an effort to keep herself together, and looked back down at her cards.

It was her turn now, and Mitchie lifted her head and looked Nigel straight in the eye. "Raise," she said.

It was time to cheat against the cheater.

**A/N: Sorry this one took so long. I couldn't open the Doc Manager last night. :( Hope you enjoyed this!**


	37. Cheating

**This is Prompt No. 11-Cheating**

Mitchie pretended to be quite involved in thinking through her strategy, but in actuality, cards were beginning to creep up and down her sleeve as she replaced the ones dealt to her for the ones Caitlyn had supplied her with. She tried not to groan as her head began to pound even as her vision became less clear. "Uh," she moaned.

"Everything alright?" Nigel asked cheerfully, far too cheerfully.

"I'm fine," Mitchie assured him. "My cards aren't, though."

Nigel seemed pleased and he failed miserably at wiping the smirk off his face. "Should you perhaps call it a night?"

Mitchie glanced back down at her cards and looked back up, forcing herself not to shrink away from all the pairs of eyes focusing on her, waiting for her decision. "I think I just might," she told him, and then added, "after I finish this game."

Nigel fought back a scowl and nodded. "Then let's continue," he said, and the game went on.

Mitchie began to worry as the pile of notes grew higher and higher. Two of Nigel's men folded, wiping their brows. Four others remained and Mitchie knew that it only took each one of them to "check" (not giving a bet) before she could lay her cards down, go home, and sleep off the most horrible headache of the century. "Check," she said, setting things into motion.

"Check," said one beefy man next to her.

"Check," added another.

The third man paused, fingering his cards and contemplating whether or not he wanted to raise. "Uh," he stuttered, unsure.

"Do something, man!" Nigel snapped, breaking his smooth façade.

The man shrank slightly from the smaller man and said, "I'm trying to!"

"Well try harder!"

By now, other tables had quite their games and were gathering around Nigel's table, curious about the game that was becoming louder and louder. Mitchie glanced from one person to the other, blinking each time in order to try and clear her vision. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caitlyn join the crowd and make her way to the front of it.

"Check," the nervous man finally said, as everyone knew he would.

All eyes then turned to Nigel and some people started muttering words like "cheater" and "liar." Mitchie tried not to smile. This could actually work in her favor. The crowd might actually favor her when she pulled off her little stunt.

"Check," he said, bluffing bravado. Mitchie knew that he thought he could win, and she had to force herself not to smile. She blinked again, but her vision refused to clear and she was beginning to feel sick.

The men began laying down their cards, and Mitchie's blood started pulsing with excitement. The first man hand two pairs, but they were no match for the second man's low run. The third man had a high card, but nothing substantial, and Mitchie almost felt sorry for him as he placed his cards down on the table amidst snickering from Nigel and the other ruffians in the group. Nigel, on the other hand, was greeted with a hushed silence as he triumphantly placed his flush, five cards in order and in the same suit, down on the table.

He turned towards Mitchie and said smugly, "Your turn."

Mitchie looked blearily at the cards he had put down and shook her head. "That's wonderful," she said, "absolutely wonderful." Then, she placed her royal flush, from ten to ace in the same suit, down on the table and sat back.

Nigel leapt up from the table. "That's impossible!" he roared as he stared at the cards. He turned to Mitchie, his face almost purple with his rage, and his eyes narrowed so that he barely looked like he had eyes. "You cheated!" he accused, pointing a stubby finger right at Mitchie's nose.

The crowd began to grumble at the comment, giving Mitchie the courage to sit back in her chair easily and say, "That's a tough accusation coming from a man whom I've heard regularly cheats at this very game." The crowd murmured its approval at this statement, so Mitchie went on. "One of us is obviously cheating since there are too many cards from the same suit, but which one is it?"

The crowd began to mutter, and Mitchie heard several people say, "Nigel."

"Shut up!" Nigel shouted to the crowd. Mitchie saw his hands clench at his sides and he grinned, straightening his vest authoritatively. "You picked the wrong game to join, boy," he said. His face gave off an air of mock sadness. "Poor Shania," he said. "She'll be so upset."

Then, faster than Mitchie could even comprehend, Nigel's hand flew to his gun belt. The next thing she knew, she was staring down the barrel of his gun with no way to reach for hers. Without warning, he pulled the trigger and the sound ricocheted around the saloon. Mitchie tumbled backwards, falling out of her chair and rolling under table that was close by, just as another gun went off and she heard a gurgled cry.

**A/N: Uh oh! By the way, did anyone recognize the correlation between "Shane" and "Shania"? Just curious. Let me know what you think!**


	38. Book

**This is Prompt No. 59-Book**

Mitchie heard people screaming as she doubled up under the table, clutching her chest. She groaned as she rolled to the other side of the table, forcing herself to stand. She gripped the edge of the card table for support and surveyed the scene in front of her. Women had their hands clapped over their mouths as they shrunk away from the table where the card game had gone on. Nigel's body was slumped over the table, having scattered cards and drinks all over in a wet mess.

Mitchie turned away before she could spot any blood or gore. She had gone through enough of that before when she had been in the army, and she felt no inclination to witness it again. She looked around, searching for the killer, and found a young man standing at the head of the table, his feet braced apart and the gun still raised in his hands.

He turned calmly and asked Mitchie, "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Yes, thank you," she said, still in shock.

He turned, shoving his gun back into its holster, and left the saloon with barely even a nod to the stunned bar keeper. Mitchie turned back around and saw Caitlyn motioning subtly for her. She made her way through the crowd, which wasn't difficult since they parted the way for her, and left the saloon with Caitlyn following at a safe distance.

When Mitchie felt the first rush of fresh, cold air hit her face, it was both welcoming and sickening. She breathed it in, thankful for the breeze after the smoke-filled room. She stumbled into the alley next to the saloon, her chest burning from the force of the bullet. She placed one hand on the wall of the building, bending over in the hopes of catching her breath.

"Lieutenant?" Caitlyn called, still in character.

"Over here," Mitchie groaned.

There was a patter of feet and then Caitlyn appeared, her face white with worry. She eyed the bullet hole over her heart and raised questioning eyes to Mitchie's face. In response, Mitchie lifted her arms to her breast pocket and pulled out the little prop book. Buried right in the middle of the leather and unused pages was the bullet from Nigel's gun.

Caitlyn's eyes shone with relief and she shook her head. "Why is it that whenever I see you, you have a bullet in some part of your body?" Now that the crisis was over and she was sure that Mitchie was only going to be sore from the blow and not dead, the tartness had returned to Caitlyn's speech.

Mitchie chuckled as she rubbed her sternum, wincing as she said, "It's a habit I'm really trying to break." She smiled weakly at Caitlyn and asked, trying to ignore the blurriness of her vision, "Who was that man?"

Caitlyn realized that she was referring to the one that had shot Nigel and she responded with a shrug, "I don't know. Maybe he was another agent, or maybe he was just a young man with his head screwed on straight." Mitchie had to smile at that guess.

"What happened to the money?" Mitchie asked, forcing herself to stand up straighter now that some of the pain was wearing off.

Caitlyn patted her skirt. "I have it right here." She smiled. "Someone insisted that you had won it fair and square, so they asked me to get it to you." Caitlyn appeared as though she was trying not to laugh.

"Not exactly fairly," Mitchie admitted with a wry grin.

Caitlyn regarded her curiously. "Why did you not fold?" she asked. "Why did you put yourself in such a dangerous spot?"

"Because," Mitchie replied, "I thought that anything I could contribute to the Union Army would be helpful." She shrugged. "I figured that the UUS could use the money."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "You never cease to amaze me," she told Mitchie honestly. She frowned suddenly and asked, "Are you alright? You don't look well."

"I don't feel well," Mitchie told her. "I think it's the alcohol they gave me."

Caitlyn's ears perked up at that. "What alcohol?" she demanded.

"One of those guys back there knocked over the water you gave me and brought me back another glass with actual alcohol in it," Mitchie explained. "I only had two sips, but I'm not feeling very good at all. My vision's all blurry and I feel like I'm going to get sick."

Caitlyn bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't think it was the alcohol," she told Mitchie.

"Well then what was it?" Mitchie asked, swaying slightly as she stood up straighter.

"I think you were drugged."

"What?" Mitchie asked, confused.

"I think they drugged you," Caitlyn told her. "He probably knocked the glass over on purpose."

"But why?" Mitchie asked.

"They probably thought that you would pass out from the drug and then they would take you away," Caitlyn explained matter-of-factly. "When you regained consciousness, they would ask you all sorts of questions about who you were working for." Caitlyn shuddered. "I knew you weren't ready for this," she muttered. "They shouldn't have sent you into that place."

"But I got the information," Mitchie protested, trying to force her weak voice to sound at least a little argumentative.

"At what cost?" Caitlyn pointed out. "If we hadn't given you that book, you would've been dead right now. If you'd passed out and the gang had taken you away, you would be dead right now. Either way, this was far too dangerous."

Mitchie had no strength to protest. She simply hung her head. "I'm sorry," she said, the words coming out slightly slurred.

"For what?" Caitlyn asked.

"For failing," Mitchie replied.

Caitlyn shook her head. "You didn't fail," she stressed, trying to make Mitchie see her point. "You did extremely well under the circumstances. My only point is that you shouldn't have _had _to deal with those circumstances."

Mitchie nodded, but her head only bobbed. She felt exhausted and her neck felt so heavy that she didn't know for how much longer she could hold it up. "Mmhmm," she whispered, her eyelids drifting shut and then opening suddenly again. Now, she was struggling to stay awake.

Caitlyn noticed and grabbed her hand. "We have to get you back to the base."

"But people will think that you're with us if they see you taking me back," Mitchie protested, trying to think clearly through the fog that was hazing her brain.

"I wish I could, but I can't take you," Caitlyn told her. "I can't miss my shift." She began walking, pulling Mitchie along behind her as she wove through the alley towards the back of the saloon. "History is going to have to take you."

"History?" Mitchie asked, confused.

Caitlyn pulled her into a large building in the "backyard" of the saloon and Mitchie realized by the smell that it was a stable. She pulled Mitchie to the far end of the stable opened one of the stall doors. Grabbing the bridle of the horse inside, Caitlyn pulled out the horse she and Mitchie had ridden earlier that night. "History," she said, "my horse. He's named that because we're changing history right now."

She helped hoist Mitchie into the saddle and then led the horse outside and down the alley once again. When they reached the main road, Caitlyn looped the reins around History's saddle horn and told Mitchie, "He'll take you back to the base, you just have to hang on."

Without giving Mitchie time to protest about leaving her behind, Caitlyn slapped history's flanks and the horse lunged forward, soon disappearing in to the night.

"Take care of her," Caitlyn whispered into the darkness. "Please."

**A/N: Review please! :D**


	39. Spinning

**This is Prompt No. 45-Spinning**

The night air whipped Mitchie's hair in front of her face as she bent low over History's neck, trying to stay awake. She groaned into History's mane as she felt a jolt from the ground travel straight through her body and up into her pounding head. "Uh!" she moaned.

History's hooves pounded the hard-packed turf as he galloped back to the base. Caitlyn had given him his head, tying the reins loosely around the saddle horn, so he was able to stretch his neck out further, giving him more momentum. Mitchie couldn't think straight as she slumped over the saddle, her head bouncing against History's neck. Though it jarred her, she couldn't be bothered to lift her head.

"Hurry, History," she begged as her arms wrapped around the horse's neck in an effort not to slide off. The horse seemed to sense her distress, for he pushed himself harder, his neck and legs moving forward and backward in a rapid pumping motion that seemed almost impossible.

Soon, the base came into sight and History slowed down, coming to an abrupt stop at the old, termite infested hitching post. Mitchie literally slid off his back, landing with a thud on the ground. She reached for the saddle horn in an attempt to steady herself, and she staggered forward towards the stairs, taking them one at a time. Her limbs felt on fire as she pushed open the door and staggered into the room of the old house.

She dragged herself over to the cupboard and collapsed onto it, not sure what to do now. "Please!" she called, hoping that someone would hear her. "It's Mitchie."

There was a long silence, and Mitchie collapsed against the back of the cupboard, closing her eyes for a moment. What would happen if no one heard her? Was there something she was supposed to do? She tried to think back to earlier that night when Caitlyn had brought her up by way of the cupboard, but couldn't remember anything. Had it really only been earlier in the night that all that had taken place? To Mitchie, it seemed like ages ago.

She pounded on the cupboard again, but she felt so weak that it sounded only more like knocking. "Please!" she called again.

All of the sudden, the cupboard started to shift and Mitchie felt herself descending down, leaving the old shack behind. She leaned back against the wall and tried hard to stay awake for just a little longer. The cupboard stopped moving and a door was opened. Mitchie tumbled out, right into Shane's waiting arms.

"Mitchie!" he gasped, not expecting her to come rolling out so limply. He lowered her gently to the floor. "Mitchie, what happened?" His voice was rising to an almost hysterical note as he shook her slightly.

"I had to play poker," Mitchie mumbled softly, "against this horrid man that cheats."

"Okay," Shane said quickly.

"I won and he shot me," she explained. Shane sucked a breath in and even in the state she was in, with the world literally spinning in front of her eyes, she knew that he was worried about her and thought the worst. "I'm not hurt," she told him. "He hit that book you gave me as a prop."

"Then what's wrong?" Shane asked, eyeing her up and down, looking for any signs of blood.

"Before he shot me, he drugged me," Mitchie said, slumping against Shane's body, her eyelids closing and mouth pulling into a grimace. Even the darkness behind her closed eyes seemed to spin as she felt herself slipping away.

"Stay with me, Mitchie," Shane commanded, gathering her into his arms and striding quickly down the hall. "Don't fall asleep, stay with me."

"I can't," Mitchie murmured, her head tossing back and forth as he walked. "I just can't."

"Try," he told her.

He almost ran down the twisting and turning halls, his teeth clenched together as he carried Mitchie. As he careened around one corner, he almost ran into Nate. Nate took one look at her and cried, "What happened?"

"She was drugged, Shane said hurriedly. "Get the doctor on call."

Nate took off sprinting and Shane continued in the opposite direction, holding Mitchie tightly to his chest. "Hold on," he told her.

He barely heard her whisper, "I'm trying."

Finally, Shane skidded around the corner to Mitchie's room and pushed open the door, laying her gently on the bed and tucking the covers around her. Nate soon arrived with the doctor on call and he examined Mitchie, who had finally succumbed to the drug and was sleeping. "Is she going to be okay?" Shane asked nervously.

The doctor straightened and said, "She should be fine. Just let her sleep the drug off and she should be back to normal in no time at all."

He turned to leave and Shane asked again, "So she's going to be perfectly okay?"

The doctor turned and looked at the young man, seated on the bed next to the drugged girl, holding her hand and looking up at him with eyes that were pleading for an affirmative, assuring answer. He smiled. "Yes," he assured Shane again, "she'll be just fine."

**A/N: There you go! A quick update before I'm off to Canada! Please review! :D**


	40. Laughter

**This is Prompt No. 27-Laughter**

Mitchie woke the next morning only to find Shane's head in her lap, softly snoring. He was facing her and she could see his eyelashes fluttering as he dreamed. She smiled slightly, and even though she was feeling slightly disoriented from the drug, she felt her heart swell slightly with love. She brought one hand up so that she could gently stroke Shane's hair, finding it as soft and as black as a crow's wing.

Her movements woke him up and he opened his eyes to find her smiling at him. He grinned back and said, "You're not allowed out of the base again…ever."

Mitchie laughed as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't that bad," she told him. "I didn't get hurt."

"But you could have," Shane stressed. "That mission was over your head. We never should've sent you on it."

Mitchie shrugged, still feeling sleepy from the drug. "Maybe not, but it was done, and I accomplished what I set out to find."

Shane shrugged. "I suppose that's a good thing. The mission wasn't for nothing then." He stood, leaning over to kiss her forehead, and said, "Everyone wanted to see you when you were awake. Are you feeling well enough to get up?"

Mitchie took inventory of herself, testing each main muscle and bone and making sure that everything worked. "I think so," she told him. "Just give me a moment to get dressed, and then I'll be out."

"Alright," he said and started toward the door. "I'll be right outside."

When the door had closed behind him, Mitchie pushed back the covers and rolled over, shakily standing. The room started to spin for a moment and Mitchie feared that the drug Nigel had used might not have worn off, but soon, the dizziness stopped, and Mitchie surmised that it was only a result of having moved suddenly. She walked carefully to her wardrobe and found a plain day dress that would work well and then began the task of putting it on.

"Boys' clothes are _so_ much easier to wear," she grumbled as she began lacing her corset by herself, an almost impossible task, and pulling on her stockings. Finally, after much manual labor, and some unsteady moments, Mitchie succeeded in lacing up the back of her dress. Next came her hair, which was a simple task after having had to dress herself.

Mitchie slipped on her shoes and then hurried to the door leading out to the base. "I'm ready," she told Shane.

He was standing right where he had said he was going to be and he turned and smiled at her cheerfully. "Took you long enough," he teased.

Mitchie sniffed disdainfully. "You try getting into one of these horrid contraptions by yourself," she said, motioning to the dress. "I bet it would take you longer!"

Shane grinned, glad to see that some of the fire was back in her countenance. "You're probably right," he conceded, putting his arm lightly around her shoulders, a bold move, and leading her down the hall.

Mitchie smiled, feeling the weight of his arm around her shoulders and liking it. Together, they made their way down the many halls, stopping every now and then so that Mitchie could catch her breath. The drug seemed to have worn down some of her endurance and she leaned against Shane quite a few times as she caught her breath. "Sorry," she said each time she had to stop.

And every time she said it, Shane would brush her off and say, "There's nothing to be sorry about."

They finally came to the conference room where their division of the UUS met, and Shane held open the door for her. When she stepped inside, Mitchie heard a loud squeal. "Mitchie!" Her head whipped to the side and she found Caitlyn struggling to get out of her seat, and Nate holding her by the waist to keep her there. "Let go of me, Nate!" she called.

Nate shook his head and grinned at Mitchie. "I wouldn't want Mitchie to get hurt again right after she's recovered."

"Nate!" Caitlyn's tone demanded that he let go.

"No," he said determinedly.

"Nathaniel!" Caitlyn's tone became sharp and hard as she used Nate's full name.

Jason, who was sitting with the general on the other side of the room watching the exchange, chuckled. "Better let her go, Nathaniel," he teased. "She used your full name."

Nate rolled his eyes. "That failed to scare me two years ago." But in the end, he let Caitlyn go, and she bounded up to Mitchie, hugging her tightly.

"I was so worried about you," she told Mitchie as she hugged her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Mitchie nodded. "I'm a little tired, and slightly disoriented, but no more than usual."

Everyone laughed and Caitlyn hugged her again. "I so wanted to go with you," she said. "I worried about you all night until Nate came to get me and told me that you were alright."

Mitchie nodded and turned to glance at the general. "I'm so sorry," she said, "that the mission turned out the way it did."

He shrugged in return and smiled at her. "You did the best you could," he assured Mitchie. "The situation got out of control and there was nothing we could do about it. You did a very good job under circumstances we didn't train you for."

Mitchie nodded her head, silently thanking the general for the compliment. Her face twisted into a smile and she said, "At least I know how to play poker now!"

Shane rolled his eyes. "Just what I always wanted you to learn," he said dryly.

Caitlyn looked from one to the other, her eyes flickering quickly from face to face. "Did you tell him?" she asked.

"Tell who what?" Mitchie asked, confused.

An impish grin crept over Caitlyn's face as she said, "You know, about your sweetheart."

Shane turned to Mitchie, a slight frown on his face. "What sweetheart?"

Horror crept over Mitchie as she realized what Caitlyn was talking about. She must have heard Nigel's comment about "Shania" being so upset. Her cheeks stained crimson as she studied the floor. "Not now, Caitlyn," she hissed.

Nate sat back in his chair, grinning, "Oh definitely now," he said.

"Yes, tell us, Mitchie!" Jason added. "Who is this man who's managed to capture your heart after only an evening?"

"Not a man," Caitlyn chuckled and Mitchie glared at her fiercely, but she was undeterred. "Lieutenant Perry has a sweetheart back home named Shania." The last word came out garbled because Caitlyn was laughing so hard.

"What?" Shane asked, leaning forward unconsciously.

This time, Caitlyn managed to get the name out, complete with appropriate syllables. "Shania!"

The room was quiet for a moment, and Mitchie squirmed under their gazes. Then, Nate and Jason began giggling, and the general let out a laugh. Soon, even Shane joined in, and the laughter rang out throughout the room.

**A/N: Did you guys really think that I would leave you all hanging for a month while I'm gone? You thought wrong! :D Let me know if you liked it! And over 200 reviews? You guys rock! Thank you!**


	41. Happiness

**This is Prompt No. 6-Happiness**

A week later, Mitchie was organizing the weapons Caitlyn had given her and putting them into their different cases. She wiped each one with a warm cloth and then dried them, sharpening the blades on the stone Caitlyn had given her for that purpose. She stopped momentarily to wipe the beads of perspiration off of her forehead and sighed. Weapons were fun, and useful, but they were a pain to have to take care of.

A knock at the door gave Mitchie the reprieve she had been hoping for and she eagerly stood and went to open it. "Shane!" she exclaimed, happy to see the young man standing there. "Come in."

He stepped inside so that she could close the door. "Thanks," he said. He glanced down at the weapons on the floor and looked back at Mitchie. She had her hair up in a plain hairstyle and it was covered by a handkerchief. "Cleaning day?" he guessed.

Mitchie smiled at him and asked dryly, "How could you tell?"

Shane pretended to think. "The expression of utter exhaustion in your eyes," he teased.

Mitchie nodded and went along with his teasing. "Wonderful guess," she said.

Shane motioned to the knives and guns on the floor. "May I help you?" he offered.

Mitchie nodded gratefully. "Thank you!" she exclaimed. "Yes."

Together, they sat down and began cleaning the rest of the weapons together. For a long time, they worked in silence, but Mitchie kept having the distinct feeling that Shane kept looking expectantly at her, so she finally sat back on her heels and asked, "Is there something you want to say to me, Shane?"

In response, Shane blushed and nodded, setting the gun he had been working on carefully on the ground. "Remember when you asked me to find out about your brother and his wife?" he asked her.

His question sent a chill through Mitchie and she dared let herself hope that he had news. "Yes," she said.

"Well," Shane began, digging into his pockets, "I found them."

The simplicity of the statement stunned Mitchie for a moment before she leapt to her feet and stared down at him. "Really?" she cried.

Shane nodded. "Really," he assured her. He pulled out a large sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. "It got a little squished on the way here, but I didn't think you'd mind too much."

The rapture in Mitchie's eyes told him that she wouldn't even notice the creases. She would be far too busy drinking in every word written that she would fail to look at the paper itself. "Thank you, Shane," she said softly. "I feel so happy right now."

Shane smiled. "Happiness is a good quality to have," he assured her. He motioned towards the door and said, "I'll let you read your note in private. When you're done, come get me and we'll finish these off." He pointed to the weapons on the floor and Mitchie nodded absently, still grinning at the page she held in her hands.

Shane, with a smile of his own, slipped out the door and closed it softly behind him. He walked down the hallways full of people, yet barely noticed any of them. He felt himself swell with happiness as well, for he would do almost anything to see that look of happiness on Mitchie's face. Yes, he was glad that he hadn't given up and had tracked them down.

Back in her room, Mitchie sank down on the bed and tucked her legs under her body. Slowly, her hands shaking as she did so, she unfolded the letter and began to read.

_Dearest Mitchie,_

_You can't imagine our surprise when that Lieutenant Grey came knocking on our door, saying that you were alive and trying to find us. We were overjoyed! He said that you were serving the side you wanted to be on this time, but that he couldn't tell us what you are doing. I do hope that you are safe and not getting into trouble._

Mitchie smiled at that line. "So like Anna," she said, smiling as she looked at the flowery script that she herself had taught her friend.

_Mitchell and I made it up north relatively easily and were married soon after. I am expecting a baby sometime in autumn. If it's a girl, Mitchell and I have agreed to name it after you, Mitchie, the most courageous young woman we've ever met. We heard from Lieutenant Grey that you were well, so we are happy to hear it. Maybe one day, when the war is over, we can see each other again. We miss you, Mitchie, and you are in our prayers._

_Love Always,_

_Anna and Mitchell_

Mitchie brushed away the tears that had formed in her eyes as she held the letter close to her heart. The happiness she felt amazed her. The fact that a single sheet of paper could bring such joy to her heart solidified just how much she loved her brother and his new wife. And the baby on the way! Mitchie felt herself smile all over again as she thought of Anna holding a little one of her own, with Mitchell standing over her as the proud father. If she lived in a perfect world, Mitchie knew that she would have been standing right alongside her brother, just as proud as he was soon to be.

For a moment, the realization that the world wasn't perfect, so…, weighed on her heart, but Mitchie quickly brushed it aside. Nothing would ruin her happiness today, no matter what tomorrow might bring.

**A/N: Well? Did you like it? let me know! :D**


	42. Autumn

**This is Prompt No. 75-Autumn**

Summer soon gave way to autumn, bringing the smell of burning leaves down through the many levels of dirt so that the aroma permeated the base. Mitchie groaned and teased Shane, "Why do the armies have to burn the leaves above our base?" she would ask, pinching her nose.

And every time she asked, he would reply with a wink and say, "Hang in there, Mitchie. It's the Confederates trying to smoke us out." To which she would always laugh because he was probably right.

The UUS had made a substantial amount of progress throughout the summer and had foiled a few plots by the Confederates. Yet, there where quite a few days that a team would come slinking into the base, embarrassed because their information had caused more damage to the Union than good.

Mitchie went on several missions throughout the summer. The Confederates had killed one of the Union's main officers, so a mission came through to kill one of the Confederates' generals. Mitchie had shaken her head and had refused to take on the assignment. "I refuse to kill someone unless it's absolutely necessary," she had said.

"It _is_ absolutely necessary!" the general had exclaimed as he held the file out to her.

No amount of coaxing could move her iron will, so in the end, Mitchie stayed in her room, waiting for Shane and Caitlyn to come back from doing the deed. To her, it was a relief to see the sadness that still came over their faces. It showed Mitchie that all the horrors they had experienced had not left them untouched.

She did notice, however, that being a spy changed a person. She noticed that she was always looking over her shoulder to make sure that she wasn't being followed. She practiced more and more with her weapons in case of a surprise attack. But the greatest change she noticed was that she felt more comfortable in a pair of trousers and a shirt than she did in the skirts she had worn all her life.

Shane asked her once, "Do you regret agreeing to do this?"

Mitchie paused, weighing her words. "Well…" she said slowly, trying to be diplomatic.

"You can tell me the truth," Shane told her. "I want to know the truth."

Mitchie nodded and thus responded truthfully, "Maybe a little. I think that I just want to feel normal for a while again. I miss being 'normal.'"

Shane nodded and looked thoughtful, but he didn't mention the subject again for a while.

**A/N: Sorry about this chapter being so short. It's one of those transitional chapters that there's absolutely nothing to write about, but that have to be in there! Know what I mean? So please, don't be mad, but review and tell me what you thought! :D**


	43. Fairground

**This is Prompt No. 31-Fairground**

Mitchie didn't find out what Shane's thoughtful look meant until a few days later when she was walking down one of the many hallways of the base, looking for Caitlyn. He saw her before she saw him and he hurried to catch up with her. "Looking for Caitlyn?" he asked innocently.

Mitchie nodded. "I'm rather lonely today." She smiled up at him. "Present company excluded, of course."

Shane nodded and smiled. "Of course." He then lightly grabbed her arm and began pulling her in the opposite direction.

"Shane!" she cried, more surprised than angry. "Where are you going?"

He flashed her a smile and continued to pull her along. "You said you wanted to be normal, so we're going to be normal."

For a moment, Mitchie was unable to understand what he was talking about, but then her earlier statement came back to her mind and she smiled to herself. Leave it to Shane to take a comment made in passing and make it a reality. "Okay," she said softly, showing him that she was going to be compliant. "You planned this, didn't you?" She was rewarded with an excited nod.

Shane led her down to the horse and buggy tunnel, helping her into the buggy with an over exaggerated bow and a wink. Mitchie smiled, trying to force the giddy feeling she was experiencing down into the pit of her stomach. He sat down next to her and nodded to the driver, who flicked the reins and started the horse off on its two-hour journey.

"Do I get any hints?" Mitchie asked, curiosity getting the best of her after only a few minutes into the ride.

Shane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Bored already?" he asked. "My my, I must freshen upon on my entertaining skills if you are!"

His teasing made Mitchie blush. "No," she assured him. "I'm not bored. I'm just really curious." She decided to tease him right back. "You're being very mysterious, Monsieur Harlequin."

He smiled back at her as she reminded him of France, and said, "I would love to tell you. Actually, I'm dying to tell you, but I can't. Otherwise, I would miss the look on your face when you arrive."

Mitchie suddenly felt very self-conscious of her face. "Is it going to be a look of horror, or a look of absolute bliss?" she asked, worried that it would be the former option.

Shane noticed her face and let out a laugh. "I hope it will be a look of happiness." His mind wandered back to the look on her face when he had given her the letter from her brother and his wife. He could only hope that her expression today would mirror that one. "I have a feeling you'll like it.."

Mitchie nodded. "If you think so, then I'm sure I will. I trust you." The look on her face as she said it made Shane's heart beat slightly faster. She trusted him!

"I'm glad." Shane told her honestly.

They rode in relative silence for a long time before they reached the end of the line and Shane stepped down first to help Mitchie down. Instead of offering his hand, he put his hands lightly around her waist and lifted her down. "What are you doing?" Mitchie gasped as he set her down on the floor of the tunnel.

Shane raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Mitchie looked from the buggy to the young man and finally said, "You've never lifted me down."

He cocked his head to the side and asked, "Isn't that normal courting behavior?"

Mitchie's face flamed as it did every time Shane spoke of courting. "Yes, but you've never-"

"I told you," Shane said, cutting her off. "I want you to feel normal today."

He offered her his arm, and she took it after a moment, her grin getting wider and wider as time went on. Finally, she was getting to go courting, proper courting. Together, they walked up the steps and found themselves once again in the dark prop room. "Where now?" Mitchie asked good-naturedly, beginning to enjoy the element of surprise Shane had created for her.

"Follow me," he instructed, taking her hand and pulling her gently through the theater.

She obediently followed him, trying to think of what he had planned for her, but she had no idea. Soon, as they neared the main doors of the theater, Mitchie could hear a lot of noise coming in through the wooden doors. She frowned and began to wonder if the war had come here to Washington and that was why Shane had brought her here.

"_No!"_ she thought, berating herself for not thinking clearly. _"Shane told me that we were going to do something 'normal.' Espionage is definitely not normal."_

"Everything alright?" Shane asked, noticing that she had stopped and was staring at the doors very hard.

Mitchie shook herself out of her thoughtful state and nodded. "I'm fine," she said with an apologetic smile. "Let's go."

Shane held open the door for her and she stepped out, right into the middle of a throng of people. Almost immediately, she stopped, and Shane ran right into her, putting his hands on her shoulders for support. She looked right and left, seeing all the people laughing and talking, with streamers flying from all around and music playing from somewhere down the street.

"Are you surprised?" Shane asked, bending over and speaking loudly in her ear so that she could hear him over the noise of the crowd.

Mitchie looked around, examining all the stands selling different delicacies, shriveled due to the harshness of the war. She took in the haggard, but happy, expressions on the people's faces, and she turned around and smiled up at Shane. "I'm very surprised," she told him. "And I'm also very happy."

Shane nodded as well, pleased that she approved of his "normal" outing. "Do you know where you are?" he asked her.

Mitchie shook her head. "I know we're in front of the theater, but other than that, I'm rather lost."

He pointed down the street at a tattered little banner that hung from one house's window ledge to the other's window ledge. Mitchie squinted, but she couldn't make out the words. "These are the fairgrounds for the autumn festival," he explained. "The festivities are a little shabbier than usual since the war's pretty much wiped every green thing out, but it's still very much like a party." He smiled and said, "Here, you can act normal for today."

He motioned for her to follow him and then began weaving through the crowds. Mitchie started to follow him, but a thought made her stop for a moment and ask aloud, her voice muffled by the other voices, "What exactly _is_ normal?"

**A/N: Did you like it? Let me know!**


	44. Candyfloss

**This is Prompt No. 32-Candyfloss **

For the rest of the day, Shane and Mitchie swept around the streets of Washington acting "normal." The fairground, however frugal, was bursting with happiness, for people were glad to set aside the horrors of war for a day in the hopes of focusing on how life used to be. There was plenty of music from young men and women aspiring to be fine players, and even though they made mistakes, the crowd hooted and hollered just as loudly as if they were famous and outwardly perfect.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Shane asked as they sat on a creaky old bench under a tree in the park, watching all the different couples and families walk by.

Mitchie nodded, an almost permanent smile still on her face after the whole day. "Very much," she assured him. "This day has been wonderful. Thank you."

Shane smiled at her. "You're most welcome. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"The question is," Mitchie began, "did you enjoy the day?"

"Definitely," he told her easily. "I spent it with you." Mitchie blushed, ducking her head and nodding like she was grateful that he had said such a thing, but that she really didn't believe him to be serious, so he went on. "I'm being completely serious. Spending a day with you has become one of my favorite things to do, and having you all to myself today has been wonderful."

Mitchie looked up at him and smiled genuinely. "I'm glad," she said truthfully.

At that moment, a candyfloss cart passed by amidst the other people out and about. Mitchie and Shane both turned towards the vendor's voice as he called out, "Candyfloss!"

"Would you like some?" Shane asked eagerly, glancing from Mitchie back to the candyfloss seller, no doubt judging the distance between the two and wondering how fast he would have to run to catch him.

Mitchie, knowing that if she said no, Shane wouldn't get any for himself, said, "Sure. Thank you."

She barely finished the "thank you," before Shane was off the old bench and racing down the street to catch the seller. She had to laugh as she watched him tear down the street. He looked like an overgrown kid! She tried to control her giggles as Shane returned with two fluffy specimens of candyfloss, one in each hand.

"What?" he asked her curiously. "Your face is all red."

At that statement, Mitchie fought desperately to keep her composure and not laugh. "It's nothing," she assured him when she felt that it was safe to talk once again. Without saying anything else, she took one of the treats from Shane's hand and bit into it, more to hide her giant grin than to enjoy the treat. "This is good."

That sent Shane off on a different train of thought, which was Mitchie's point. "It is," he told her. "I haven't had candyfloss in forever."

Mitchie turned the fluffy confection around and around on its stick. "With the war going on, the ingredients for this must've cost a fortune." Her eyes snapped up to Shane's face, alarmed. "You didn't spend a lot on it, did you?"

The guilty look on his face assured her that he had. "Well…" he began, but conveniently trailed off.

"Shane!" Mitchie exclaimed. "You shouldn't be spending your money like that! Flippancy is not ever rewarded."

Shane rolled his eyes and said softly, "You're my date, not my mother."

The request of silence on the subject was absolutely clear to Mitchie, and she conceded. "Very well," she sighed, "but just this once, please, Shane."

Shane sighed dramatically and ran his fingers through his hair before arguing, "What are you supposed to do with money if you can't spend it at some point in your life?" His gaze softened and he ran the back of his hand over Mitchie's cheek, smiling apologetically. "Let me guess, save it?"

Mitchie nodded sheepishly. He knew exactly what she had been thinking. "Maybe, but it's your money, and I won't say another word on the subject. You can spend it however you'd like, whenever you'd like. Okay with you?"

Shane nodded with a smile. "Sounds great."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, eating their candyfloss, before Shane wiped his forehead, once again overly dramatizing the motion, and said, "Pfew!"

Mitchie turned to look at him and frowned. "What?" she asked.

"I just realized something," Shane said, and Mitchie could see that his eyes were twinkling with glee. She was almost afraid to ask.

"What?"

"We just had our first argument as a couple," Shane told her, "and it was just as silly as they always say it turns out to be."

Mitchie had to laugh. "So is the discussion that follows the silly argument," she teased.

"Hey now!" Shane exclaimed, putting his hands into the air as a sign of surrender. "I beg you, don't start our second argument on the same day. I need time to recover."

They both burst out laughing and it took quite a while before either of them could regain their breath. "Oh gosh!" Mitchie wheezed, holding her stomach and trying to hang on to her candyfloss.

When the laughter had subsided, Shane glanced up at Mitchie and noticed that she had a tiny little piece of candyfloss in the corner of her mouth. He whipped out a handkerchief and handed it to her saying, "You have a little bit of candyfloss right in the corner."

Mitchie took the handkerchief and tried to wipe off the smudge of candyfloss, but she kept missing the actual area. "Is it gone yet?" she asked, slightly frustrated, and definitely embarrassed.

"No," Shane told her and took the handkerchief. "Here, let me," he offered. He leaned forward and began to wipe the small smudge off her skin. When he had finished, Shane stilled. He hadn't realized how close he had gotten to her, and now their eyes were both widening as they found themselves inches from each other.

Encouraged by the flicker of a smile across Mitchie's lips, Shane slowly closed the gap between them and kissed her softly, sweetly.

He was struck by the pureness of it all, their first kiss.


	45. Music

**This is Prompt No. 62-Music**

Shane was the first to pull away from the kiss, smiling as he did so. He pulled Mitchie close and held her tightly. "I love you," he told her seriously. "I've loved you since I met you in France."

Mitchie, still recovering from all the delightful feelings Shane's embrace had invoked, answered by snuggling into his arms and whispering, "I've loved you since France too." She smiled up at him. "I was sure that you were going to be a fairytale, though."

Shane hugged her tightly. "I assure you," he promised her, "I'm real and I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Mitchie replied.

They stayed that way for a very long time before the sky began to grow darker, the light fading rapidly due to the time of year. "We'd best be getting back," Shane regretfully said.

Mitchie nodded sadly and sat back up, brushing off her skirts. "Today has been wonderful," she said with a sigh, thinking back over the whole day, one part of it under the tree in particular….

Shane grinned, knowing what she was thinking. "Yes," he agreed, "it has." He offered her his arm and then began to walk back to the theater.

As they passed one street, Mitchie stopped, pulling Shane to a stop. "Shane," she breathed, "look!"

The street looked like something from a painting. The tightly spaced houses created only a narrow alleyway between them, but a group of people had strung lanterns with candles in them across the small street with clotheslines, keeping the lanterns suspended by clothespins. Though the street was uneven, the cobblestones old and easily breakable, there where couples whirling around in the small space while a trio of little musicians played. The three players were sitting on crates, happily playing away at their instruments as they watched their friends, parents, and neighbors whirl to the beat of their music.

"Oh!" Mitchie exclaimed, enraptured by the scene. Shane stepped behind her silently, watching her expression as her deep eyes examined every aspect of the little scene, committing it to memory.

One young woman on the outskirts of the party turned and saw the young couple standing there at the end of the street and beckoned for them to come closer. "There's plenty of room!" she called. "Come join us!"

The cry was taken up by a few other people and Mitchie turned pleadingly towards Shane, begging him for a few more minutes in this happy atmosphere. "I suppose we can stay for a few more minutes," he conceded and led her over to the group. "I thought you didn't like to dance," he teased.

Mitchie smiled up at him, knowing that he was teasing. "That was before I met you."

They moved into the center of the little group, and the people moved aside good-naturedly to watch this new young couple dance. Shane took Mitchie's right hand in his left, and then circled his right hand around her waist, pulling her closer. The musicians elbowed each other and whispered, soon starting to play a slow, romantic ballad. Shane chuckled and shot the musicians a smile and a wink.

As they swayed to the music, Shane bent low so that he could whisper in her ear, "This is the first time since France that we've danced."

Mitchie smiled up at him and nodded. "It's just as magical," she remarked, looking around at the tiny little street.

Shane smiled back. Only Mitchie would compare a quaint little street with the overdone finery of France and find them equal in charm, if not a little more charm for the alleyway. "You're right," he said softly.

The music slowed even more and finally stopped. Mitchie and Shane stopped swaying and turned to look at the musicians to see if they would continue playing. The girl stepped down from her crate and literally and figuratively jumped into a quick Virginia reel. Mitchie wondered if the others would oppose the music selection because of the war, but they cried out excitedly, clapping their hands and stamping their feet.

"Would you dance with me?" Shane asked humorously, grinning as he held out his hand to her.

Mitchie sank into a curtsy and smiled back. "Sure."

Together, they flew through the steps, whirling around and around to the music of the little violinist and the friendly clapping and cheering. When the music ended, the clapping multiplied into applause and Mitchie glanced around, her cheeks glowing with exertion and happiness. She glanced at Shane and saw that his expression was very much the same.

As the people began to dance again, Shane gave Mitchie's sleeve a tug and whispered, "I think we should be heading back now. It'll be late by the time we get back to the base."

Mitchie nodded regretfully and waved goodbye to the young woman that had invited them over, and turned with Shane to leave. They walked slowly together back to the theater, slipping into the dark place and creeping soundlessly up the back steps to the prop room to disappear back into the long tunnels of the UUS.

**A/N: Sorry that it's rather short. Hope you still like it! Let me know, please! :D**


	46. Work

**This is Prompt No. 95-Work**

Shane stumbled out of his room the next morning, rubbing his eyes and trying to wake up. He yawned widely and leaned against the doorframe, trying not to groan. He and Mitchie had arrived late last night, tired but happy after their day free from espionage and constrictions. He smiled as he thought back on the day and determined that no matter how tired he was, the day had been worth it.

"You must be tired," someone said.

Shane opened his eyes and squinted to see who was standing in front of him. "Hi, Caitlyn," he muttered.

His sister-in-law grinned widely and said, "Hi yourself. Boy, you and Mitchie are terrible today. I went to get her up, and she fell right back to sleep."

"I wish I could do just that," Shane replied, rubbing his hand over his face and then smoothing down his hair.

Caitlyn cocked her head to the side. "Why can't you?" she asked. "Are you on an assignment or something?" The look on her face told Shane that she was rapidly going through all her mental files to make sure that she hadn't missed a briefing by the general.

"No," Shane assured her, "you didn't miss anything. I got back to my room last night and found a summons from the general. He wants to see me this morning, bright and early." Shane's dry excitement told Caitlyn that he was more tired than he let on.

"What did you do this time?" she teased.

Shane rolled his eyes. "It's not that kind of summons, sister of mine." He batted his eyelashes at her and said, "I've been the perfect little angel."

"Ha!" Caitlyn chortled. "That'll be the day!" She grew more serious and put her hand on his arm. "I hope everything goes well."

Shane nodded his thanks and forced his body to move down the tunnels towards the general's office. When he reached the office, he knocked on the door and was bid to enter. "Yes?" he asked as he walked in.

"Ah, Shane!" the general said. "Do sit down." He watched as Shane sat down in the chair in front of his desk. "You look a little tired," he remarked. "You're hair's a mess as well."

Shane groaned, knowing that the general was teasing him, and unconsciously ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, well, it was worth it," he told the general.

The general smiled. "I'm sure it was," he replied. Then, his expression changed and he grew serious again. "We have a job for you to do."

Shane nodded. "Okay."

"It's dangerous," the general warned.

"Aren't they always?"

You'll be away for a while."

Shane paused, thinking of Mitchie, and then nodded, realizing that in the general's mind, the wellbeing of the country was more important. "Aren't I always?" he responded again.

"You might have to kill someone."

Shane winced. He hated to have to kill someone unless it was absolutely necessary, but his job usually required that he do so. Sometimes, the horrors that he faced would revisit him during the night and he would wake up in a panic. When he had first started working for the UUS, he had woken up almost every night, screaming from the nightmares that plagued him. At that time, Nate had been his constant companion, many times leaving Caitlyn alone in bed to sit with Shane until he fell back to sleep.

"Don't I usually?" he asked.

The general nodded. "Yes, but I just want you to realize what you'll have to go through on this mission. It'll be long and hard."

"Understood," Shane assured him. "What do I do?"

For the next two hours, Shane and the general discussed the specifics of the assignment, examining the pros and cons of the work Shane would soon be doing. By they time they finished their meeting, Shane had a sinking feeling in his stomach that refused to go away. He nodded and smiled mechanically as the general talked, but was really off in thought.

"Is there anything else you'd want to know?" the general asked, closing the meeting. "Any questions you might have?"

"Just one," Shane said, sitting forward.

**A/N: What will Shane's question be? Any guesses? Please review!**


	47. Disappointment

**This is Prompt No. 40-Disappointment**

Mitchie rolled over onto her back, slowly waking up, and stretched. Her eyes opened and she stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply. She turned and her body jerked back, surprised that she wasn't alone in the room. "Ah!" she cried.

Shane grinned sheepishly at her. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Mitchie, suddenly self-conscious, pulled the sheet up all the way to her neck and asked, "What are you doing here?"

Shane sighed and slumped back into the chair. He made a strange noise that Mitchie couldn't identify and said, "Oh…."

Mitchie bit her lip. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked, craning her neck, trying to look into Shane's eyes.

He shook his head. "No, it's not you." He looked up at her and smiled weakly. "I actually came because I wanted to watch you sleep. I loved sitting here next to you when you were wounded."

Mitchie tried not to blush. Shane chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her lightly, making both of their stomachs flutter. "Good morning," she mumbled when he pulled away.

He smiled, a genuine smile this time, and replied, "Good morning to you too."

Mitchie looked deeply into his eyes, knowing that something was wrong, and asked, "Is it?"

"A good morning?" Shane asked, making sure that he understood her question correctly. When she nodded, he replied, "Well, no." He sighed heavily and explained, "We've been honest with each other, so I want to tell you the truth."

"Okay," Mitchie told him.

"The general sent for me this morning," Shane began and then waited for Mitchie to say something to help him along with his story.

"Are you going on another mission?" Mitchie asked, trying to be compliant.

Shane nodded. "Yes," he said, "and I'm going to be gone for a long while."

Mitchie felt a wave of disappointment flood through her. "Oh," she said flatly.

"I know," Shane told her, understanding her disappointment, "but I have to go."

"I know," Mitchie assured him. "I just feel sad."

"I know," Shane said again.

"How long are you going to be gone?" Mitchie asked quietly.

"A while."

Mitchie frowned. "Please," she begged. "You said that we were going to be honest with each other, so please tell me."

Shane nodded and sat back for a moment, thinking slowly. "At least until spring," he told Mitchie.

"Spring?!" Mitchie exclaimed. "What kind of mission is it?"

Shane shook his head. "_That_ I can't tell you. I'm sorry, Mitch."

"But why not?"

Shane tried to explain. "I was sworn to secrecy. I can't tell even you."

He pulled Mitchie close, disregarding the blanket she tried to hold on to, and held her for a long time, not moving or saying anything. After a while, he began stroking her hair, taking in the smell of it and committing it to memory. "I don't want to go," he whispered to her.

"I don't want you to go," Mitchie said just as softly. "Can't I go with you?"

Shane's body tensed suddenly and his hands gripped her arms tightly, so tightly that Mitchie was afraid that she would bruise. "No," he said resolutely, his tone like ice. "I wouldn't take you even if they let me."

"Why not?" Mitchie asked, her curiosity even more peaked.

"Because," Shane said, pulling her even closer so that he could rest his chin on the top of her head, "I love you too much."

Mitchie let the subject drop, switching to a subject that she liked more. "I love you too," she said.

Shane pushed her away at arm's length so that he could look at her face. "Do you?" he asked. "Do you _really_?"

Mitchie frowned, confused as to why he was asking. "Yes," she said slowly. "Why? Do you not trust me?"

Shane shook his head. "No, it's not that. I just want to be absolutely sure."

"Why?"

Shane took a deep breath and said, "Because I want to ask you something."

**A/N: Ooh! What do you think he's going to ask her?? Let me know what you thought about it!**


	48. Proposal

**This is Prompt No. 57-Proposal**

Mitchie glanced worriedly at Shane's intent face as he sat in front of her, claiming some sort of intellect that seemed that it would solve some part of the problem they faced. "Okay," she said slowly. "I'm listening."

Shane paused, hesitating. He seemed to be worrying about the reception of whatever he was about to propose. "Well," he began, but then stopped.

Mitchie leaned forward slightly, putting one hand boldly on his cheek so that she could feel close to him. "Shane, you can tell me anything," she told him honestly.

Shane nodded and tried again. "I know that we haven't known each other very long, but I love you."

When he didn't say anything, Mitchie nodded and said, "I love you too." She had no idea where he was going with this, but she really wanted to know, so she waited patiently for him to go on.

Without warning, he leaning forward and took her by her shoulders, speaking quickly. "I don't want to go away without knowing that you're mine. Mitchie, marry me before I leave."

Mitchie's mouth fell open and her favorite word flew out of her mouth. "What?"

Shane went on, undeterred by her surprise. "I want to marry you before I leave. I don't want to go away without knowing that you're back here, waiting for me."

Mitchie, having overcome most of her shock, said, "Yes, I'll marry you."

It was Shane's turn to look shocked. "Really?" he asked, not quite believing her.

Mitchie let out a laugh. "What?" she asked. "You tell me you love me, you ask me to marry you, and then you expect me to reject you?"

Shane smiled widely and pulled her close, but then asked, "You're marrying me because you want to though, right? I don't want you to marry me just because I want to marry you."

Mitchie put her hands on his shoulders and told him squarely, "I want to marry you. I'll marry you as soon as you want."

"Tomorrow?" Shane asked eagerly.

Mitchie had to laugh again. "Eager are we?" she teased.

Shane nodded cheekily but added, "If we get married tomorrow, we'll have three weeks together before I have to leave."

Mitchie smiled and stroked his cheek. "Tomorrow sounds wonderful then." She pushed him playfully away and untangled herself from the sheets so that she could get out of bed. "If I'm going to get married tomorrow," she said resolutely, "I'm going to go get Caitlyn to help me."

Shane stood as well, pulling her close for one more kiss before he headed out the door. "I love you," he told her once again right before he closed the door.

When he was gone, Mitchie sank back down on her bed, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. She'd just agreed to marry Shane Grey, the one and only man she'd ever loved. Soon, the shock wore off, replaced with tremendous excitement, and she jumped up from the bed, pulling off her nightdress with extra force and yanking her day clothes on.

She barely took the time to properly do her hair, throwing her locks up into a simple style. She pulled on her shoes and tore out the door, weaving her way through the many tunnels until she came to Caitlyn and Nate's apartments. She knocked on the door and waited impatiently for the residents inside to open the door.

Nate was the one to open the door and Mitchie forced herself to be relatively polite. "Is Caitlyn in?" she asked breathlessly. "I really need her."

Nate nodded and stepped aside, silently inviting Mitchie inside. "Caity!" he called. "Mitchie needs you."

When Caitlyn appeared, Mitchie practically jumped on her. "I need your help," she exclaimed.

"What else is new?" Caitlyn asked dryly, earning a teasing slap on her arm from Mitchie.

"I'm being serious," Mitchie told her earnestly. "I'm getting married tomorrow."

There was utter silence for a moment, and Mitchie began to wonder if her news was unwelcome. Then, Caitlyn let out an ear-piercing scream, jumping on Mitchie and hugging her tightly. "I'm so happy!" she cried. "We're going to be sisters!"

Mitchie laughed and snuck a glance at Nate, finding him smiling at her widely. "Congratulations," he told her over the din of Caitlyn's screams. "I'm happy for you and Shane."

"Thank you," Mitchie said earnestly.

"We have so much to do!" Ciatlyn cried. She pushed Mitchie away and sized her up and down. "You can wear my dress and I'll do your hair. Nate, can you lend Shane your suit from our wedding? I'll get the flowers outside for a bouquet and we'll get the general to perform the ceremony."

She went on and on before Mitchie stopped her with a laugh and said, "Slow down, Caity. Let's talk this through."

Caitlyn nodded, taking a breath for the first time since she had started planning. "I'll put the coffee on," she said, scurrying back into the apartment. "We need coffee."

Nate laughed as he watched his wife scurry around. "She certainly doesn't," he told Mitchie when Caitlyn was out of hearing distance.

Mitchie laughed. "You two are so different," she told him. "How did you ever marry her?"

Nate smirked. "I'm not a very active person," he explained to Mitchie, "so I wanted someone that would motivate me to get moving." He glanced fondly at the door Caitlyn had disappeared into. "She certainly motivates me."

Mitchie chuckled. "I can believe that."

Caitlyn popped her head out the door and called, "And we can figure out somewhere to put you two for your honeymoon!"

Nate and Mitchie both chuckled. Nate put his arm around Mitchie's shoulders and said, "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"I have a feeling I'm beginning to find out," Mitchie responded with a grin of her own.

**A/N: Are you happy? Did you like it? Let me know! :D**


	49. Butterfly

**This is Prompt No. 72-Butterfly**

Mitchie sat very still, staring at the wall while trying valiantly not to move. Her teeth clenched as she felt an unnecessarily sharp tug at her scalp. "Ow," she said quietly, succeeding in not moving her lips because her teeth were grinding against each other even as the syllable slipped through.

"Sorry," Caitlyn said, wincing as she said it. She patted Mitchie's head slightly to show her apology and continued in her duty.

"Are we almost done?" Mitchie asked, trying not to sound like she was whining. The last time she had asked in a whining tone, three minutes ago, Caitlyn had purposefully jerked the comb too hard and had told her to stop complaining.

"Well," Caitlyn said, trying not to roll her eyes, "we're three minutes closer to being done than the last time you asked.

"Was it really that short of a time ago?" Mitchie asked innocently, trying to twist her head around so that Caitlyn could see her batting eyelashes.

Caitlyn, however, would have none of that, and she pushed Mitchie's head back around to its original position. "Head forward," she ordered.

"Sorry," Mitchie muttered, turning back to the wall.

A moment passed, and Mitchie tried very hard no to move once more. She knew, deep down, _way_ deep down, that Caitlyn was trying her hardest to be quick. Her hands were flying around Mitchie's head, trying to be as efficient as possible. "I'm hurrying, Mitchie," she promised, reaching for the comb as she spoke.

"How do I look?" Mitchie asked hesitantly, her voice shaking as she asked. "Someone refused to put me in front of a mirror."

Caitlyn smiled at the teasing and responded, "You look absolutely beautiful. Just a few more minutes, and then you'll be just wonderful. Shane will be so awed that he won't be able to think straight."

Mitchie laughed weakly. "Let's hope not," she said shakily. "I want him to be able to say 'I do.'"

Caitlyn laughed, her hands slipping slightly on the chunk of hair she held. She fought for control of the brown curls and rewound them for a good two minutes before she said softly, "I'm so happy for you. Are you excited?"

Mitchie's gaze flickered over the papered wall in front of her, as though trying to find the answer in the grooves of the paper. "I suppose," she said slowly.

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "You suppose?" she said hesitantly, not quite sure what to make of the hesitant answer.

"I mean, yes, I am," Mitchie amended, "I'm just nervous."

Caitlyn laughed slightly, but kept a firm hold on Mitchie's hair this time. "Isn't everyone?"

Mitchie's eyes widened and Caitlyn had to push her head back again because she tried to turn and look at Caitlyn. "Were you nervous?"

Caitlyn shook her head. "No," she said causally, and then added with a grin, "I was petrified."

"You?" Mitchie asked, her jaw falling open in astonishment. Brave, sassy Caitlyn had been petrified at a point in her life?

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, but then realized that due to her strict rules about motion, Mitchie couldn't see the action. "Is that such a difficult thing to imagine?" she asked, her voice betraying just a slight hint of smugness.

"Well, yeah," Mitchie admitted. "I didn't think anything could ever petrify you."

Caitlyn sighed and her hands left Mitchie's hair. She came to stand in front of Mitchie so that she would be able to see Caitlyn's face. "Try parents," she told her friend.

Mitchie took a moment to think about this before she asked, "Your parents?"

Caitlyn nodded. "They never did like Nate. They used to make us sit out on the front of our plantation steps with them only three steps behind us, and let us talk that way. We never got a chance to find a quiet spot by ourselves."

Mitchie frowned. "Why would they do that?" She knew from courting stories that not even the strictest of parents would sit only yards away from their of-age child and their beau.

"Because they knew that Nate opposed slavery, and they refused to let him in the house." Caitlyn chuckled darkly. "I was lucky they didn't think about forbidding me to see him until we had already decided to run away and get married."

"You ran away?" Mitchie asked, sitting forward unconsciously. She'd never heard _this_ story before.

Caitlyn nodded. "Ran all the way to Washington with him and found myself right down here for my wedding night." She smirked. "I can't say that it was all that bad."

Mitchie blushed, but smiled. "I'm glad it all worked out."

Caitlyn nodded. "At least with you and Shane, it's a little easier. You have the blessing of everyone here, and you have time before he has to leave. Nate was forced to leave me the day after our wedding."

Mitchie's jaw fell open once again. Yet another part of the story she had never heard was being unveiled for her. "How did you survive?" she asked in awe, unable to comprehend such a sacrifice at the moment.

"It wasn't easy," Caitlyn assured her. "At first, it was downright terrible, but then, I found the best method in the world for keeping Nate close to my heart. I would lie awake at night on his side of our little bed, and I would recall every memory I could about him, right up until the time he had to leave." She smiled, slightly bashful. "It helped me not to lose him."

Mitchie sat in silence for a moment, just gazing at her friend. Finally, she said, "Thank you for sharing that with me. I'll remember that always."

Caitlyn nodded and changed the subject abruptly before she became too emotional. "I think your hair is done and it's perfect. Are you still nervous?"

Almost immediately, the butterflies in Mitchie's stomach took up a chorus of flutters, each trying to outdo the others on how hard it could express its distress and anxiety. "Yes," she whispered.

Caitlyn patted her arm. "You never listen to anything I say, do you," she teased, "but honestly, you'll be just fine. Remember, Shane loves you."

Those three words, _Shane loves you_, seemed to force the butterflies to scatter. Almost immediately, Mitchie found a sense of calm and reassurance in those words that made everything appear in a different, more cheery light.

Now, only one butterfly fluttered around, but it was a butterfly of anticipation, waiting for its chance to spring from its cocoon.

**A/N: Here you go everyone! Hope you're liking this! Please review and let me know what you think. Also, the Official Camp Rock Awards have come out with a new category: Best Overall Story. Some of you have told me that you think this is the best story you've read on FF. If it is, would you please nominate me for that category? I only want your vote if you truly mean it, though! Thanks so much for all your reviews. Keep them coming! :D**


	50. Marriage

**This is Prompt No. 56-Marriage**

Mitchie's fingers twisted around her white dress, forgetting Caitlyn's instructions about not touching her dress at all. She barely remembered not to bunch her skirt into her hands as they curled into fists. "Come on, come on!" she hissed, wishing that Caitlyn would hurry up and give her the signal. All she wanted to do was to get this part over with.

As if to answer her impatient murmurings, Caitlyn, her lithe frame twisting through the small opening between the door and the doorframe, whispered, "Are you ready?"

Mitchie couldn't help but glare at her friend. "Do I look ready?"

Caitlyn smirked. "Yup." She laughed lightly after that. "In all honesty, you look like you're about ready to turn and bolt, but Shane looks just the same. Once you get in there and see each other, you'll both be just fine."

"How do you know all these things?" Mitchie asked. Her face looked less pinched and less frightened. "Oh why can't he walk me down the aisle," she moaned. "Why do we even have to _have_ an aisle?"

Caitlyn grinned at the bemoaning and the questions. "Because I'm a married woman. I've been through this before," she said, answering Mitchie's first question. "Because it's not traditional," she went on, answering Mitchie's second question. "Because it's traditional," she added, answering Mitchie's third question. "You wanted to have a traditional wedding, didn't you?"

"Yes," Mitchie admitted grudgingly. "Why oh why do I have to be so stupid?" she muttered, glancing toward the bland ceiling of the base.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, pulling her fashionable blue dress around her ankles and facing toward the door. "Ready?" she asked, ignoring Mitchie's worries. She knew from experience that those fears would be abolished as soon as the young bride stepped through the door right in front of her.

Caitlyn pushed open the door and lightly swept into the room, leading the way for the bride. She nodded to the rows upon rows of chairs in the conference room, thanking each and every one of the imaginary guests for being there today. Mitchie couldn't help but smile as she watched her friend make everything as normal as possible. She began to follow her friend, and her eyes swept up to look at the front of the tiny conference room.

She hadn't expected the sight of Shane in his borrowed suit to be so arresting. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at him, his suit matching the color of his hair exactly. When he saw her in her white, train-less dress, his mouth dropped open for a moment, and then a smile graced his face, so wide that Mitchie was forced to smile as well.

Nate stood behind him and when he saw Shane relax, he relaxed as well and mouthed, "Finally." His face twisted comically as he mouthed it and Mitchie felt the rest of her anxiety fade away.

Her smile grew wider as she strode down the makeshift aisle, each step bringing her closer and closer to the young man she loved. She reached him easily, stretching out her fingers, waiting for his hand to close around hers. He returned her smile as he grasped her hand and they faced the general.

Though there were only six people in the room, Mitchie felt just like she was at a traditional wedding. Nate and Jason were Shane's best men, and Caitlyn struggled with her tough façade as she tried not to cry through part of the service. The general performed the ceremony with dignity that Mitchie admired, and soon, she and Shane were legally married.

The UUS had set out a small banquet, like a family dinner, for the six members of the wedding party. Shane and Mitchie sat next to each other, discreetly holding each other's hand under the table. Nate and Jason sat across from them with Caitlyn next to them and the general across from them, next to Mitchie. Though Mitchie knew that he had noticed the hand holding going on next to him, he didn't comment; he just smiled.

The dinner was rather blurry for Mitchie. She remembered having a wonderful time with all her family, since that was what they were, but it was Shane that had her completely distracted. Throughout the whole dinner, he used his thumb to rub lazy circles across the smooth skin on the back of her hand, completely distracting her as to what she was doing, or even what she was eating. And he knew it. The smug little smirk on his face showed that he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

The dinner had to come to an end sometime, though they tried to drag it out as long as possible. Shane and Mitchie excused themselves, knowing that no one was allowed to leave the table before them, due to tradition. They said their goodnights, both of them trying very hard not to blush, and then they left.

"It was lovely," Shane said conversationally as they strolled through the tunnels, ignoring the small, sneaking glances from the others in the tunnels.

Mitchie sighed, but it was a sigh of happiness, of contentment. "It was, even though I couldn't tell you what I ate. Someone was distracting me" she teased. She snuck a glance at her husband, reveling silently at the way the word 'husband' sounded in her mind, and smiled. He was hers, if even for a couple of weeks.

Shane turned down an unfamiliar hall and started to continue walking, but Mitchie pulled him up short. "Is something wrong?" he asked concernedly, no doubt wondering if she was getting cold feet already.

She glanced around, but not as though she as looking for a way to bolt, so Shane felt better about that. "This isn't the right tunnel," she stated acutely.

Shane grinned, having forgotten his good news. "Yes it is," he assured her. "Did you really think that you and I could squeeze into your little bed?" He grinned as he watched her blush. "The general had an old storage room that he let Nate and Jason clear out for us. They spent the time before the wedding making it a little more like home. They moved all our clothes and things into the room while Caitlyn was helping you get dressed."

"Oh," Mitchie replied flatly, surprised rather than upset. "So this is the way there?" she guessed.

"Sort of," Shane replied. "I want you to meet someone before we settle down for the night." He winked at Mitchie and her heart responded by stuttering over itself.

"Okay," she conceded, trying not to look stupid. She let him lead her down the winding tunnel, once again marveling that such a force was so big and the Confederates never knew it. In the beginning, she had wondered why the war was still going on with such a force again the south, but then she had realized that despite all the intelligence on the Union side, nothing went perfectly like it was planned.

Her reverie was interrupted by Shane saying, "We're here."

She stopped suddenly as he spoke, embarrassed that she had been thinking war strategies on her wedding day. She sighed mentally, for no matter what the occasion, war seemed to be a large part of her life now. War changed the way a person looked at life, that was for sure. "Sorry," she whispered as she almost ran into Shane.

He shook his head. "No damage, I don't _think_." He poked dramatically at his ribs, "checking" for internal damage.

Mitchie laughed and poked him sharply in the ribs. "There will be," she promised, though the threat held no validity, and they both knew it.

He laughed again and held the door open for her, and all Mitchie could see as she stepped inside was the small sign on the door that read, "Scientist."

**A/N: Chapter 50! We're halfway there! Please let me know what you think! (And I'd love your nominations!) ;)**


	51. Writer's Choice

**This is Prompt No. 101-Writer's Choice (Brown)**

As soon as Mitchie completely entered the laboratory, the smells of the chemicals wafted up to meet her. She tried not to make a face as she smelled something about ten scales above the horrible point.

"Uncle Brown!" Shane called, stepping inside and shutting the door so that the fumes would not drift into the rest of the base and contaminate it. Mitchie felt a slight sense of panic as she watched her only outlet to the normal air that people had no aversion to breathing disappear. Then, she berated herself, realizing that such a paranoid thought was silly.

"One moment!" a muffled voice called from somewhere else entirely. Mitchie's head swiveled in the general direction of the voice, but she couldn't discern where it came from. Her vision was blocked by the vast assortment of various glass bottles lined up in rows, containing all different, hideous colors of liquid inside of them.

Finally, a door banged somewhere and a tall man stepped into view. He wasn't young, but he wasn't as old as the general. His sandy blonde hair was cut short and it stood up on end, probably from the constant run-through he gave it. Now Mitchie knew where Shane got some of his traits. "Well hello, hello!" he exclaimed cheerily, and his voice carried an accent that Mitchie found charming, homey, and friendly all at the same time.

"Uncle Brown," Shane began, "this is-"

"Mitchie!" Brown exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands together and then coming forward to give Mitchie a hug. She didn't mind, and she actually smiled and hugged him back. His honest, kind face gave her nothing to worry about.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Mitchie said politely, wide smile on her face as Brown drew back from the hug.

"Me too!" he exclaimed, his mannerisms charming and formality-lacking, which Mitchie liked immediately. "I'm blue that I couldn't come to the wedding."

"It wasn't a big deal," Mitchie said, almost before she could think about what she was saying. She felt a strong drive to keep this friendly little man worry-free.

"Of course it was!" Brown insisted, throwing an arm around Shane. "Both my nephews married, and I didn't get to see either of them because of this blasted business."

"Which you love more than air," Shane remarked good-naturedly.

Brown shrugged, but didn't deny the statement. "Either way, they both picked out beautiful sheilas." He grinned. "They get that sense from me."

Shane snorted, teasing his uncle once more. "Yet who's the one that's not married?" he challenged.

Brown swatted at him and growled playfully. "They didn't get their manners from me, though," he teased right back, ruffling Shane's immaculate hair because he knew that would annoy him. Sure enough, Shane was kept occupied for a few moments, readjusting his hair to perfection.

"We just stopped by to say hi," Shane told him, running his hand over his head once more, cautiously testing to make sure that there was no permanent damage done.

"I'm so glad you did," Brown replied. "I just love company. It gets so lonely down here with just the gadgets and clothes to talk to."

Shane turned to Mitchie and explained, "Brown is our master inventor. He designs all the costumes, all the props, everything we use on our missions."

"As well as all the poisons and things like that," Brown added proudly.

Suddenly, all the colors in the glass bottles made sense. This was how people in the Confederate army mysteriously died. "Oh," she said softly, not as impressed as Brown had hoped.

"I know you have lots to do," he said with a smirk, "but there's one thing I want to show Mitchie before she leaves."

Shane nodded. "We have plenty of time."

The smile on Brown's face proved that Shane had made a good choice in staying. "Come this way," he ordered excitedly, taking Mitchie's hand and leading her far into the back, opening and closing two doors before he reached his destination.

As he stopped her in front of "it", Brown looked at Mitchie expectantly, and she knew that she should look excited, thrilled beyond words, but she couldn't, for obvious reasons. "I feel so silly right now," she told him honestly, "but I don't know what it is."

Brown laughed and it was his turn to look embarrassed. "No, I suppose you wouldn't," he told her. "Forgive me, you shouldn't know. Take a good look and tell me what it looks like."

Mitchie's brow furrowed as she took in the large black machine, covered in shiny metal and a sturdy canvass top. She searched through the interior, looking at the seats, the strange circle that popped out of the front of the machine, and the strange hump in the front of the whole contraption. She took in the wheels, much the same as a horse carriage, and finally said, "I'm probably wrong, but I'd say that it was a horseless carriage."

Brown looked so proud of her that for a moment, Mitchie thought that he was going to start giving a speech. "You are absolutely right, my dear," he said excitedly. He turned to Shane and grinned. "You sure know how to pick 'em! Guess you do get it from me."

Mitchie blushed, but Shane just grinned. "Well," he prompted. "Explain it to her."

Brown nodded happily, completely in his element. "You were right," he told Mitchie again. "A horseless buggy is exactly what it is. I designed it myself, and it's rather in the works, but it's a buggy that doesn't take horses to pull it. It runs by itself."

"Really?" Mitchie asked, intrigued. "How?"

Brown actually blushed. "That's the problem. "I'm not exactly sure how it works. I started fiddling around with a few spare parts, building something, though I didn't know what, and that's what I came up with. It runs, but I'm going to have to dismantle it and figure out _why_ it runs."

"Well I think that it's amazing," Mitchie complimented him. "What do you call it?"

Shane chuckled and Brown blushed again. "I call it C.A.R."

Mitchie frowned, confused by the acronym. "What does it stand for?" she asked curiously.

"Careening Around Roads," Brown told her.

"Yup," Shane agreed with a chuckle. "Mostly, careening around base floors. He took that thing out once, and only once." He chuckled, and Mitchie laughed as well, slightly able to picture what he was talking about. She could just see Brown and his new invention, careening around the base corners crying, "I've done it!" or something to that extent.

Brown swatted again at his nephew, but the latter dodged out of his way playfully. "I think we should get going, Mitch," he crooned. "You never know what he might put in your tea if he asked you to stay."

Brown gave him a mock scathing look. "Oh her tea would be fine," he said and trailed off mysteriously.

Mitchie laughed and responded, "Then we'd better go. I want to actually have a husband for a while before I lose him."

Her face fell and her shoulders slumped slightly as she realized that she wouldn't have nearly as long as she wanted with him, no matter what. Shane would not be there for her forever. Brown noticed her look and said congenially, "You're welcome around the lab anytime. Pop in to say hi, or for some tea." He winked at her. "I won't poison it."

Mitchie smiled and nodded her thanks and Shane led her out the door, thanking Brown on the way out. "We'll see you later," he told Brown.

"I'm counting on it," Brown replied, and then added, so low that Mitchie couldn't hear, "You've picked a really good one."

Shane nodded. "Oh believe me," he said, "I know."

The door shut behind him and Shane and Mitchie were left on their own. "The tunnel continues down a ways, and that's where our room is," he told her.

Our room. Mitchie had to admit that she liked the sound of that. She squeezed his hand slightly as they continued down the tunnel, and he squeezed back. Her heart pounded, with anticipation and not fear, as they stopped in front of their door. "Ready?" Shane asked her.

Mitchie nodded, and she knew that it was the truth. "Yes," she told him.

The stepped inside and Shane turned to smile slightly at Mitchie. "Shut the door, dear wife of mine," he whispered, kissing her softly, and Mitchie obeyed.


	52. Distance

**This is Prompt No. 54-Distance**

The next morning, Mitchie awoke, curled up comfortably in Shane's arms. "Morning," she said, her grin stretching across her face.

He smiled back at her. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "Sleep well?"

Mitchie knew that he was teasing her, and so she blushed as she replied, "Yes, what little sleep I had. _Someone_ kept me up all night."

It was Shane's turn to blush, and Mitchie laughed. "Ready for breakfast?" he asked her, trying hard to change the subject.

"I suppose," Mitchie said, twisting to slide out of bed, but Shane drew her back, holding her tightly.

"I love you so much," he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing softly against the sensitive appendage.

Mitchie grinned widely again. "I love you too," she replied honestly. Without warning, he picked her up and swung her out of bed with him. "Shane!" she cried, surprised. "What are you doing?"

He grinned down at her and then his eyes clouded slightly with worry. "I don't have you for very long," he told her honestly. "I want to have every memory imaginable before I leave."

* * *

And so, though he had no idea how, for the next half hour, Shane helped Mitchie dress for the day. She, in turn, helped him, smiling each time her shaking fingers fumbled on a certain button and his loving hands would cover hers to help her.

They spent every day together before they had to leave, and out of courtesy, no one bothered them. Caitlyn, Nate, and Jason all simply nodded and smiled as they passed by the couple in the halls, not wanting to interrupt the small little world they had surrounded themselves in for the three weeks they had together. They knew that they would have too much time for goodbyes, and plenty of time with Mitchie when Shane left.

"Are you nervous?" Mitchie asked the night before Shane was supposed to leave. She had noticed that he had seemed more subdued, and rather sad throughout the day, and she was pretty sure that she knew why.

"No," he said with a sigh after a moment of silence. "I'm actually mad."

Mitchie instantly tensed, wondering if she had done something wrong. "Was it something I did?" she asked, unconsciously inching away from the protective circle that Shane's arms held her in.

He drew her back to where she had been and shook his head. "Don't be silly," he chided. "It's not you, it's the thought of leaving you." He kissed her softly and pulled her even tighter into his arms. "You know that I love you very much, don't you?" he asked her, sounding almost desperate.

"Of course," she said, and it was her turn to chide. "Don't you know that?" she added, teasing.

Shane smiled weakly. "It's better to hear you say it."

Mitchie snuggled a little closer. "I'll miss you so much," she told him, not really expecting an answer.

He gave her one, pulling her close and kissing her deeply with as much force as he could. When he pulled away, breathless, he said huskily, "I'll miss you too, but at least I'll know that you're safe." He kissed the top of her head. "That makes me happier."

And so, even though they wished it wouldn't, the sun rose, flooding the earth with warm, unwanted light. Not having slept at all, Shane untangled himself from Mitchie's body, thankful that she had fallen asleep minutes before, exhausted. Saying goodbye was so hard to do, and he was grateful that he didn't have to go through the pain of kissing her sad face, of hugging her resisting body before he left, because if she asked him to stay, he just might.

He wrote her a quick note, telling her of his love once more, and promising to be home as soon as he possibly could. With the note safely nestled on his pillow, he pulled the covers over Mitchie's body and gave her a tender kiss on her forehead that wouldn't wake her, slipping out the door quietly.

* * *

When Mitchie awoke, she instantly knew that she was alone. Though she had only been married three weeks, her body had adjusted to the constant weight of Shane next to her, had welcomed the warmth of his arms, and had thoroughly enjoyed his kisses when he realized that she was awake. Now, she felt none of that, and she felt an instant sinking feeling. She was determined not to go into a depression, though, so she rolled over onto his side of the bed and did as Caitlyn had instructed her three weeks ago, clutching his note to her chest. She began to recall every image she could think of that had Shane in it.

She remembered how they had met, and how she had been drawn to him just by his eyes and his protective demeanor. She smiled as she remembered dancing with him, and how graceful it had felt. In his arms, she knew that she would never fall. "Oh Shane," she whispered into her pillow. "I miss you already."

She knew that there must be plenty of miles between them already. If he had left that early, it meant that he had had a long way to travel. A burning feeling started in her stomach and Mitchie felt an uninvited tear trickle down her cheek. She turned over, burying her face in Shane's pillow. No matter what, she wouldn't cry.

She wouldn't cry because she refused to let "what-if" thoughts cloud her good judgment. She wouldn't cry because she knew that Shane wouldn't want her to. She wouldn't cry because she had friends around her that could help her through the trials she faced. She wouldn't cry because she knew that they knew what she was going through. And finally, she knew that she wouldn't cry anymore because no matter what the distance, she would always love Shane and he would always love her. That itself would keep her going throughout the long winter ahead of her.

**A/N: Hope you guys like it! :D Shoutout goes out to Emma, who read this story WITHOUT STOPPING! You're awesome, and thanks so much for taking that kind of time to read my work! :D And thanks to everyone else who has reviewed, and even promised to NOMINATE! Best Overall Story here I try! (Nothing's official so I can't say "come!") Love you guys!**


	53. Calm

**This is Prompt No. 36-Calm**

"YEEE!!!" the cry split the air, startling the people outside the halls. They stopped and stared at the door that blocked them from the source of the scream. The source, however, appeared in a short moment, tearing down the hall and flying down to the door marked "Scientist," not even bothering to knock.

Her voice was heard even through the barrier of the lab door, high, frightened, and rather child-like. The people in the halls shook their heads, whispering amongst themselves as they did so. Everyone down the hall heard the frightened, "Brown! I need your help, now!"

Inside, Brown started, surprised by the noise. He dropped the wrench he had been using on the C.A.R. and bit back a curse. Wiping his hands quickly on his coat, he tore out into the main room of the lab. His eyes took in Mitchie, her whole body trembling so violently that it appeared to be rocking, her eyes wide with fright.

Almost instantly, he was at her side. "Mitchie, darling, are you hurt?" he asked, checking all the while for obvious bloodstains.

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head harder than necessary. "But-"

"No broken bones?" Brown interrupted.

"No, but-"

Brown grimaced as she began to tremble harder. "Calm yourself, love," he crooned to her. "Here, come sit down and have some tea."

He plunked her down in an available lab chair and whisked away to get some tea. Mitchie tried to control her shaking while he was gone, but the harder she tried, the more she shook. She tried to take deep breaths. _"This isn't helping either of you,"_ she muttered to herself, trying to dredge up an incentive to stop vibrating.

Brown seemed to take an unnecessarily long time getting the tea ready, and Mitchie began to wonder if she should have gone to Caitlyn about this. No, she decided, she needed Brown. Over the weeks that Shane had been away, Brown had become like the father she was missing. He would help her, she knew, if he would slow down enough to find out what the problem was.

"Here you go, love," he said, coming back into the room. "Fresh pot." He winked at her and teased, "And I didn't even poison it." He set down a plate of sandwiches as well.

Mitchie smiled in spite of herself, remembering their little joke. "So kind of you," she said dryly as she picked up the cup he set down for her, her trembling hands making the teacup wobble and clatter.

Brown noticed and said, "Is there something wrong?"

"Well-"

"Well of course there is," he said, cutting her off again. "You never come to see me practically tearing the hinges off the doors."

Mitchie blushed, embarrassed by her panic-ridden haste. "Sorry about that," she apologized, actually surprised that she had gotten one full sentence in between his chattering. "You see-"

"I'm sure it has to do with Shane, doesn't it?" Brown asked, leaning forward as he took a quick sip of his steaming hot tea.

"Actually," Mitchie said, "it does have something to do with Shane. You see-"

"You must miss him terribly," Brown said, oblivious, despite his high credentials, that Mitchie had something important to say.

"Well, yes," Mitchie said.

"And it's right that you should miss him!" Brown assured her, though she needed no assurance.

"But-"

"Never fear," he said, hand raised to ward off whatever Mitchie was going to say. "I'm sure he misses you just as much."

"I would hope so," Mitchie told him, feeling slightly frustrated. Perhaps she should have gone to Caitlyn after all.

"But it's not like you'll never see him again," Shane assured her. "You'll see each other before you know it."

He paused, and Mitchie knew that now would be a good time to say what she needed to say, but she couldn't help saying instead, "Yes, but I have to wait all winter."

Brown chuckled and started again. "Of course you do! Missions don't solve themselves within a few days, well, not the important ones. Why, I remember…."

Mitchie tried to tune Brown out as he spoke, berating herself for not having taken the opportunity given to her to say something. She instead focused on trying to keep her hands from noticeably shaking. At least the one good thing about Brown was that when you were in his presence, his demeanor soothed you no matter what.

"And then there was this time," Brown went on, and Mitchie tried to pull herself into the conversation. The other good thing about Brown was that you could be off in your own little world and then come back, and not much would've gone on since you'd "left."

"Brown!" Mitchie exclaimed, unable to hold her problems in any longer. Her whole body was shaking again, straining against breaking down, which was looking like a better and better option.

Brown looked startled. "What?" he asked curiously.

"I hate to be rude," Mitchie began, but Brown picked up the trail once more, not letting her finish. He was in a rare mood today, and Mitchie guessed that it was the fumes from the C.A.R. that had done it to him.

"Oh, don't be silly!" he exclaimed, pushing the plate of sandwiches towards her. "Of course you can have one!"

Mitchie huffed. This was not how she had thought things were going to be when she had rushed over here. Well, technically that wasn't true. She hadn't given the idea much thought when she had rushed over to him. "Brown!" she cried, and her voice stopped him quickly, dissolving his rambunctious mood.

It was as though he was looking at her for the first time since he became sidetracked. He took in her eyes, still wide, though less scared than they had been, her face which was just as pale, and her lips, which were pressing in a hard line. For the first time in minutes, he heard the teacup rattling in her hands, and he realized that he had made a mistake. "Oh dear," he muttered. "Please tell me, Mitchie," he begged. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't listening to you, and it must be something terrible because you're shaking so hard! Forgive me, please."

Mitchie smiled weakly. "Of course I forgive you, and no, it's not terrible," she told him. "Actually, it's wonderful, just frightening."

"But you said it was about Shane, right?" Brown asked, making sure, and Mitchie was surprised that he had remembered that.

She nodded. "Yes," she said with a smile. "He had a big part in it."

"Well please tell me," Brown begged. "I'm listening."

"I came to you because I need your scientific expertise," Mitchie explained. She took a deep breath, fighting to stay calm, and said, "Brown, I'm pregnant."

The reaction took a moment, but then Brown launched himself at her, holding her gently in his arms as he waited for her to relax and let the trembling go away. "You poor thing," he crooned, stroking her hair. "You must be scared to death, and there I was, just chattering away without stopping." He began to rock slightly back and forth. "Are you sure?" he asked curiously.

Mitchie nodded. "Yes," she said aloud, "and I'm so excited. If Shane should, for some reason, not come back, I'll have a little piece of him with me. I'm just scared. I need advice."

Brown frowned. "I'm flattered that you came to me, but why not Caitlyn?"

"I'm telling Caitlyn as soon as I leave here," Mitchie assured him. "I'd like her as my midwife, but I wanted a little bit of reassurance from a doctor himself."

Brown snorted. "You give me far too much credit," he said, but went through each step with Mitchie slowly so that she could prepare herself.

"So what do we do now?" Mitchie asked him when they had finished their talk.

Brown shrugged. "We wait for winter."

**A/N: Well? I'm sure that some of you thought that it was about time, so here you go! Hope you liked it, and thanks so much for all your wonderful comments! Love you guys!**


	54. Winter

**This is Prompt No. 96-Winter**

Throughout the rest of autumn, Mitchie spent much of her time with Caitlyn and the rest of her family. She could often be found perched on a table in the lab, swinging her legs like a young girl. She would watch and listen patiently as Brown eagerly explained each and every part of his C.A.R. in full, unnecessary detail. If she wasn't there, she would be found curled up in one of Caitlyn's comfy chairs, with a cup of hot chocolate in her hand, since she couldn't stand the taste of coffee during this period of her life.

She missed Shane terribly, but each morning, like Caitlyn had suggested, she would roll over onto Shane's side of the bed and she would remember the best times of her life during the time that Shane had brightened it. Many times, though she had tried not to, some tears would slip through her tight eyes and drip down to water the pillow.

"Come back to me," she would whisper each night in the hope that she might wake up the next morning and find Shane lying next to her, waiting for her to wake up so that he might kiss her and wish her good morning. But each morning, like she knew, the spot next to her was empty.

The months ticked by, and not even a letter from Shane came. Mitchie began to feel discouraged, but the general assured her that with his mission, he could not risk sending any messages. So, she waited, and she waited, comforted by the little life that grew inside her, reminding her every day about the young man she loved so much.

"I love you," she would whisper as her hands rested over her stomach lovingly. "I love both of you."

When she had joined the army, she had never realized that she would soon be married and starting a family of her own. Though it was quicker than normal, Mitchie realized with a large sense of satisfaction that it felt _right_. She felt loved, and she was able to love, opening her heart to people in a way that she had only been able to do with Mitchell and Anna. Now, she was able to shower the love and devotion she felt towards the many people here in the base that she considered to be her family.

The winter months began to slide by, and Mitchie noticed a change in the base. It became slightly colder, and she pulled out two extra blankets, making sure that she was well covered at night so that she and the baby wouldn't catch a cold. She would burrow down into the blankets, tugging them around her as though their warmth and closeness would push the fears in her head out.

Christmas drew near, and Mitchie couldn't help herself but be drawn into Caitlyn's frenzied planning. She smiled widely as she watched Nate, ever calm and controlled, roll his eyes in mock dismay at his wife's excitement. She would even giggle as she watched Jason gaze at the couple, making faces behind their backs for her amusement.

But though they did quite a bit in order to make Mitchie forget her troubles, she continued to worry about Shane. She completely missed the glances sent her way, the calculating stares, and the hidden smiles. All she could think about was how terrible Christmas would be without Shane by her side.

**A/N: One of those filler chapters! Love 'em and hate 'em at the same time, but I promise that it's important to the story, so hang in there with me! Please review and tell me what you think! :D Reviews seriously make my day!**


	55. Christmas

**This is Prompt No. 28-Christmas**

Mitchie awoke Christmas morning and automatically rolled over towards Shane's side of the bed, ready to begin her morning routine and start her day. Caitlyn, Jason, Nate, and the general were going to spend their Christmas with her, so she must get started. Of late, her routine of remembering Shane had grown longer and longer until she had to start waking up earlier just to be getting out of bed at a decent hour. Though today, her routine was ruined when she rolled, and abruptly hit an obstacle.

She twisted around and let out a scream, but it was a scream of shock tinged heavily with happiness. Shane lay there next to her, head propped up on his elbow, watching her with a wide smile. "Shane!" she cried.

Then, without a word, Shane pulled her tightly to him and kissed her, holding her in her place for a long time, and Mitchie didn't complain. When Shane finally pulled away, he kept his arms wrapped around her body, keeping her as close to him as her growing stomach would allow. His forehead tilted to rest on hers, and they stayed that way, without speaking, for a long while.

"Am I dreaming?" Mitchie found the courage to ask. She was fearful of the answer, but wanted to make sure that she was really awake, and that he was really right in front of her.

Shane chuckled softly and shook his head. "No," he said. "I'm here. I'm really here."

Mitchie snuggled deeper into his arms, and he welcomed her there. "But how?" she asked. "I thought the mission was supposed to be longer." She looked up at him, suddenly hopeful. "Are you done? Did you finish early?"

Shane shook his head again. "No, I'm not done. The mission is still in progress. I'm only here for the day." He kissed Mitchie's hair almost reverently. "I'm here to be with you for today." His grin widened further, which Mitchie hadn't realized was possible, when he added, "Both of you."

"So you know," Mitchie correctly guessed. "Who told you?"

"Caitlyn wrote to me," Shane explained. "She told me that I was needed for the holidays, and that if I didn't get here by Christmas morning, she would personally come find me, ruin my cover, and drag me back home to spend Christmas here." He grinned as he listed Caitlyn's threats one by one.

Mitchie giggled. "Sounds like Caitlyn," she said. She made a mental note to thank Caitlyn profusely for giving her such a wonderful gift. She couldn't have asked for a better gift.

"When is the baby due?" Shane asked quietly.

"About three and half more months," Mitchie said after calculating a moment.

"Have you felt it move yet?" Shane asked curiously.

Mitchie shook her head. "No," she said. She then smiled up at Shane and asked, "Would you like to see if you have better luck?"

The look on Shane's face was priceless. The eagerness she saw there made Mitchie's heart swell even more with love for him. Very gently, he slid his hand under the many layers that covered them both and rested it on her stomach. Finding the position comfortable, they stayed there for a long time, just holding each other and wondering if the baby would move.

"I've missed you," she told him after a while in blissful silence.

"I've missed you too," Shane assured her, moving in to kiss her softly. "I love you so much," he said before he sealed his lips to hers.

Almost instantly, Mitchie felt a tremor, a flutter of movement, in her stomach, and she broke the kiss with a wondering gasp. "Did you-?" she asked breathlessly.

Shane nodded, his eyes filled with wonder, excitement, and love. "Yes," he whispered. He pressed a kiss to her hair and whispered, "I love you both."

Mitchie smiled with glee, excited at hearing his declaration. He was happy about the baby, _his_ baby, _their_ baby. He already loved the baby. Mitchie had been so afraid that Shane would be disappointed, maybe even upset, about this new development in his life, but her fears had been for nothing. Despite the weight of their jobs at the moment, both were excited, and ready, for a family.

"I'm so glad," she told him honestly. "I was afraid you might be upset."

Shane frowned, confused, but then his eyes showed an understanding that made him smile. He shook his head and grinned convincingly at Mitchie. "I couldn't be happier about the baby," he told her honestly. "What more could I want? I have a wife that I'm head over heels in love with, a job a large step up from something boring and mundane, and I have the start of a family. Do you see a problem with any of that?"

Mitchie shook her head, smiling at his reasoning. "No," she said. "Well, maybe the job," she teased.

Shane smiled but didn't respond. He only snuggled close to Mitchie again and closed his eyes in bliss. He was beyond grateful to Caitlyn for sending him that encrypted letter. He would have to thank her for that. "As much as I would love to spend the rest of my life right here," he told Mitchie, thoughts of Caitlyn reminding him of other obligations, "we should probably get up. I promised Caitlyn that we would still join them for Christmas celebrations, and we'll be late if we don't get up now."

Mitchie knew that Shane could see the hesitancy in her eyes as she struggled not to ask for just an hour more with him alone. She tried to dredge up a nod and a convincing smile as she said, "Fine."

Shane chuckled. "We have all tonight together, I promise. I'm not leaving until the morning."

Mitchie nodded, satisfied with this arrangement. "Good," she said and wiggled reluctantly out of his arms so that she could get out of bed. Shane rolled out of bed as well, and they began to get dressed for the day. Mitchie pulled out the wrapped packages she had bought and hidden away for her family and then turned sheepishly towards Shane.

"I didn't expect you," she said honestly, remembering that when Shane had proposed, he had cautioned that he would be gone all winter, "so I don't have a gift for you."

Shane crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. "You," he said sincerely, "are my gift. You and our baby are the only things I want."

Mitchie nodded, pleased, and asked, "Are you ready?"

Shane ran a hand through his hair, and Mitchie was reminded of just how much she loved that unconscious action. "Yes," he said. Without speaking, he picked up the packages Mitchie was trying to balance and tucked them under his long arms. "I'll carry those for you," he said with a smile.

They headed out through the tunnels, crowded with people all trying to get to their friends and family members in order to celebrate the season. When they finally arrived at Caitlyn and Nate's set of apartments, Mitchie knocked, and was barely through giving three raps when Caitlyn threw the door open. "Hi!" she cried excitedly, hugging each of them in turn.

"Hey Caity," Shane said, gently hugging his sister-in-law. "Thanks for the letter."

Caitlyn grinned, her cheeks pink with excitement. "No problem. Come in, come in!" She hustled them into the apartment and Mitchie glanced around in wonder.

The whole room was decorated in tasteful ornaments, tinsel, and cranberries strung on strings. A fire burned cheerily in the hearth thanks to Jason, who was just setting another log on the flames when Mitchie and Shane strode into the room. He smiled widely and cried, "Hey you guys! Merry Christmas!"

Shane and Mitchie laughed, returning the greeting and hugging Nate and the general as they made the rounds. Once the pleasantries had concluded, everyone began opening their presents. Later on in the day, Brown showed up as well, and he and Shane spent a lot of time talking to each other while Mitchie sat curled up next to Shane.

As she looked around at her family, able to feel the warmth of her husband's arms around her, resting on her stomach, Mitchie allowed herself to smile. Never had a Christmas at home been so wonderful. Never had the morning been full of such simple joy. Though Shane would leave in the morning, Mitchie realized that this had been her favorite Christmas, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

**A/N: Did you like it? I hope you did! Thanks to those of you who have nominated me! :D I appreciate it so much!**


	56. Science

**This is Prompt No. 86-Science**

Two weeks after the wonderful, unexpected Christmas surprise Mitchie had received, she was sitting in Caitlyn's apartment with another cup of hot chocolate in her hands, blowing on the wispy steam that curled up from the cup. She took a hesitant sip, testing to see if it was too hot, and she pulled back sharply. The hot liquid had burned her tongue…again.

Caitlyn appeared with her cup of coffee and she grinned. "Did you burn your tongue again?" she asked as she watched Mitchie try and suck on her aching tongue.

"Yes," Mitchie said with a sigh. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this," she said. "Hot chocolate is just too difficult to drink."

Caitlyn laughed, knowing that Mitchie was teasing her. She sat down and noticed Mitchie wince slightly. "Is the baby as active as ever?" she asked.

Mitchie nodded, placing a hand on her ribs where the baby had just kicked. "Yes, I think it's a boy," she said, slightly breathless.

"Why?"

Mitchie winced as the baby kicked again. "Because it never stops moving!" she said with a wry grin.

Caitlyn smiled again. "You're probably right," she said. "It's either a boy, or a very active girl." She grew serious and asked, "Which would you rather it be?"

Mitchie thought for a moment and then said slowly, "I think I'd be perfectly fine with either," she said. "All I want is a healthy baby, and so does Shane." She paused and took a sip of her drink. "That being said, if something should happen to Shane, I think I'd like my baby to be a boy just like him."

Caitlyn nodded and said, "I think that's perfectly natural. Nate and I are thinking about having a baby."

"Really?" Mitchie asked excitedly, smiling when Caitlyn blushed bright red. "That's great! Our children can have play dates. They'll be cousins!"

Caitlyn had to smile at her friend's excitement over such a simple concept. "You're one of the happiest people I know," she remarked.

Mitchie paused, thinking that through. "Is that a good thing?" she asked, unsure.

"Yes of course!" Caitlyn laughed. "You make the people around you happy. Look at Brown! He used to be so shy around us, and now we have a problem getting him out of our house at the end of the night!" She winked at Mitchie. "Not that I'm complaining about the company. Shane would be pleased that his uncle is starting to fit right in with us."

Mitchie couldn't help but let out a giggle as the baby within her moved. Her giggling turned to full out laughs as she leaned her head back against the chair. "I'm sorry!" she managed to choke out as she saw Caitlyn staring at her, wondering what was so funny.

"What is it?" Caitlyn asked, confused.

"Something you said reminded me of something else," Mitchie managed to explain in between giggles.

"And it was that funny?" Caitlyn asked, trying to remember what she had said.

Mitchie nodded. "It was because you mentioned Brown," she explained.

Caitlyn frowned. "How is that funny?" she asked. "Granted, Brown himself is funny, but I can't see how that would make you laugh."

"It isn't that," Mitchie told her. "It was something he told me one day when I went to visit him."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "Go on," she said, interested now.

"We were talking about the baby, and all the different things that go on inside the body that carries the child," Mitchie explained as a preface.

"Okay," Caitlyn said, able to keep up with Mitchie's story so far.

"So we were going on about the processes, and Brown started to get this disgusted look on his face, so I asked him what was wrong, and he looked at me and said, 'Honestly, love, I just can't abide with the fact that the baby is pushing your liver and kidneys up, and pushing your small and large intestines together.'" She grinned as she remembered it, and saw that Caitlyn was trying to laugh as she watched Mitchie impersonate the faces she saw from Brown. "That's all," she added with a shrug.

"You do his face and voice very well," Caitlyn told Mitchie. She stood and collected the cups from their visit and smiled down at her friend. "You only have about three months left, right?" she asked. "Then we'll have a new family member."

Mitchie nodded. "I'm excited, yet I'm scared," she admitted.

"Why?" Caitlyn asked. "What's there to be scared about?"

"Well," Mitchie said, blushing, "I've never handled pain very well."

"Pain?" Caitlyn asked, trying so hard not to laugh. "You, who got shot twice and had to have a small amount of surgery done on your arm because you couldn't move it, are worried about pain?"

Mitchie nodded. "Yes, because-" she said, stopping immediately and blushing again. "Never mind. It's silly."

"What?" Caitlyn asked curiously. "You can tell me."

"I'm afraid because each time I've been in pain, Shane's been there to help me through it," Mitchie told her.

"That's not silly. That's natural. I've never seen two people more in tune to each other than you and Shane." Caitlyn patted Mitchie's arm. "Who knows? Maybe the mission will be over before you have to worry about giving birth by yourself."

Mitchie raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You'd let him into the birthing room?" she asked, shocked and pleasantly surprised. "I've never heard of anyone doing that." It was customary that the men be kept away from the birthing room until the baby was born.

Caitlyn shrugged. "We don't have many of the same rules here at the base that other people have," she explained. "We have to think more practically that the rest of society, and that's just a silly custom. If Shane's here, and you want him, he can come in as long as he stays out of my way." She grinned and then tried to look threatening, but it was rather unconvincing since she was trying not to laugh.

Mitchie stood, happy that she had such wonderful supportive people in her life. "Thank you," she said sincerely. She brushed off her skirt and said, "I suppose I should be getting back. I need to clean up my own house."

Caitlyn nodded and walked her to the door. "Don't do too much," she warned, her face twisting into a mischievous smirk. "Your kidneys are already squished!"

Mitchie's laughter rang out through the base.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Thanks to the other people who nominated me! You know who you are! ;) Please review!!!**


	57. New Year

**This is Prompt No. 81-New Year**

And so, the time drew near that the old year died away and the new year rang forth. But this time, the new year was not brought forth with bells pealing from church steeples and happy well wishes from all you might meet in the streets, it was met with gunfire, and the cry of people in pain. Their aches and cries replaced the shouts of joy that usually met the new year, and the gurgled screams as someone died replaced the cheering of the crowds.

The base continued in much the same way, but there were a few days of confusion, for everything from the old year had to be burned, destroyed beyond recognition, for nothing about the UUS must ever be known. New maps, new charts, and new assignment sheets came in, and they were hung along the walls were they could easily be seen.

Caitlyn demanded that all six people from their UUS division (Brown was now included) come to her and Nate's apartment for a party she wanted to throw. She wanted everyone to have fun, and to relax after such a long year.

"We've had a really hard year," she told them, hands planted in stubborn fists on her hips. "We should have an excuse to celebrate. We're here, we're alive, and we're safe." As soon as she said that, Caitlyn's face paled slightly and she looked apologetically at Mitchie. "I-"

"Don't," Mitchie told her, smile on her face. "What you said is true. We're alive, and we're here. Pretty soon, we'll all be safe." She turned and smiled at the others standing around, watching the exchange. "I think we should do it," she said, her voice strong and confident. "It'll be fun."

Caitlyn leaned around her to send a saucy grin Nate's way. "See!" she crowed.

Nate made a face. "Yes, dear," he said dryly.

Mitchie looked from husband to wife, and then back again. "What are you two talking about?" she asked.

"I wanted to have a party, but Nate didn't think you'd want to because Shane wasn't here," Caitlyn explained.

Mitchie smiled at Nate. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness," she told him. "It was very sweet of you, but I think that a party is a nice idea. We need something to take our minds off everything going on in the war."

Caitlyn looked eagerly at the general. "So I can start planning then?" she asked.

The general smiled at her eagerness. "I suppose," he said after a moment. "Why not?"

Caitlyn gave a slight little jump of triumph. "Oh thank you!" Almost immediately, her mouth started going a mile a minute, planning each and every detail out loud.

"Now we'll just have to see if she can stay in the budget," Nate whispered to Mitchie, causing her to smile.

The party took place on December 31, 1861, and Caitlyn even managed to stay within the budget _and_ to be pleased with the result, so there was plenty to celebrate. The party continued well into the night, with plenty of talking and laughing. As the clock tolled midnight, Nate stood up, raising his glass of water and said, "To this new year of 1862, may we all be bound together in the thick bind of friendship," he said and glanced around the room. "May those loved ones away from us return home," he continued, glancing at Mitchie. "And may the war end soon!"

Everyone in the room cheered and raised their glasses, drinking to his long, heartfelt toast. Mitchie drank deeply, silently praying that each and every one of those requests would come about quickly. "Here, here," she whispered as the others cheered.

No matter how hard she tried, Mitchie couldn't quite abolish the ache she felt in her heart. She missed Shane more than she thought had been possible, and no amount of hours away from him diminished the longing for him to be by her side the way he had been for the few months she had known him before he was forced to leave.

As she sipped her drink, Mitchie rested her empty hand on her stomach, comforted by the moving life she felt within her. No matter what happened in the near future, this baby would be a reminder of Shane's love for her, and that thought gave Mitchie the comfort she needed to go on.

**A/N: Hope you liked it, even though it's rather short. Let me know what you think! :D **


	58. Child

**This is Prompt No. 19-Child**

Mitchie hummed to herself as she moved about the little apartment she and Shane had shared for the first three weeks of their marriage, and then that one, wonderful Christmas night. Her mood was light and happy, for spring was quickly approaching, and her baby was due at any moment. Oh, how she did love the month of March!

She smiled as she heard Caitlyn in the other room, humming away as she tried to knit a pair of booties, tiny little shoes for the baby. It was safe to say that it wasn't going very well. Caitlyn, knitting needles, and yarn did not seem to make a very good combination, no matter how hard Caitlyn tried. She had managed to make the first bootie, but had then had trouble on the second, for a reason unknown to everyone.

Mitchie grinned again as she heard Caitlyn's grumbled complaint. She reached up to open one of the cupboards so that she could put away one of the plates that had been used for dinner, but a strange, ripping pain tore through her stomach and she dropped the plate. It shattered, shards skittering across the floor upon contact, and the grumbling in the next room immediately halted.

Seconds later, Caitlyn was flying into the kitchen to see what had happened. She looked first at Mitchie, who was clutching the counter so hard that her knuckles were turning white, then she looked at the plate, now barely held together by the spider web crack all along the middle section of the plate, and then she looked at the shards of the plate that were scattered around the floor. She looked up and asked, "Contraction?"

Mitchie could barely answer, for another contraction hit her, almost sending her to the floor. Caitlyn jumped towards her just in time and kept her from falling. She managed to get Mitchie into bed and then asked, panting slightly, "Will you be alright by yourself for a moment? I have to get the doctor."

Mitchie nodded, barely able to do more than that, and tried to focus on the ceiling so that she wouldn't cry out. "Hurry," she whispered as Caitlyn scrambled out the door. She gritted her teeth and tried to take her mind off the pain of the contractions. Wasn't childbirth supposed to take hours? Didn't everyone say that it could even be days before the baby was born? Why had hers come so suddenly?

The door opened and Mitchie's thoughts were interrupted as she saw the doctor walk in. For the next two hours, she and Caitlyn and the doctor worked through the process of bringing a child into the world. Mitchie couldn't understand why Caitlyn had called for the doctor when she had said that she would be Mitchie's midwife, but she couldn't move her lips to ask.

Finally, the baby arrived, uttering a loud, angry wail at having been treated in such a terrible fashion. The doctor handed the baby over to Caitlyn so that she could care for it, and then he left, his work finished. Caitlyn eyed the baby with a certain amount of glee, as she bathed the little one and dressed it in some of the tiny little clothes Mitchie had been given. Finally, once clean, she handed the baby to Mitchie and smiled. "You have a beautiful little girl," she told Mitchie.

Mitchie accepted the little one into her arms and gazed wonderingly at it. With a small tuff of jet black hair and chocolate eyes, the little girl reminded Mitchie strongly of Shane, but the face was hers. The shape of the eyes, the nose, and the lips were all Mitchie's traits, and she was shocked to see both parents in this tiny little baby.

"She's beautiful," she whispered in wonderment, her voice tired and gravelly from exertion.

Caitlyn nodded. "Yes, she is," she agreed.

Mitchie breathed deeply, holding the little girl to her. "Caity, why did you send for the doctor? Did something happen?"

Caitlyn looked embarrassed as she shook her head. "Seeing you there in the kitchen, I began to doubt that I could do this by myself, so I went to get the doctor for good measure." She stroked Mitchie's sweaty hair back from her face and said, "You did just fine." She nodded to the baby. "You might want to nurse her now."

Caitlyn helped Mitchie get situated, and then the baby began to nurse. Mitchie stroked her daughter's small little tuft of fine black hair and sighed. Her little piece of Shane had arrived, safe and sound.

"What are you going to call her?" Caitlyn asked curiously after a moment.

"I'm not sure," Mitchie told her honestly.

"Were you waiting for Shane to help you decide?"

Mitchie shook her head and told Caitlyn, "No, Shane told me that he trusted my judgement. The name is mine to pick."

"Any ideas?" Caitlyn asked.

Mitchie nodded. "Just one." She grinned and looked down at her daughter, who was now opening her brown eyes again so that she could stare at her mother.

"What?" Caitlyn asked eagerly.

"It's something very patriotic," Mitchie told her. "A name that came up during the time I served the UUS."

Caitlyn frowned, trying to think of what Mitchie could be talking about. "I don't know," she said, giving up. "I can't think of anything."

Mitchie grinned and said, holding her daughter up so that Caitlyn could see both of their faces, "May I introduce you to Shania Michelle Grey? Shania, this is your Aunt Caitlyn, a very, very special woman."

**A/N: Hope you liked it! I was so excited when I wrote this. Please review and tell me if you liked it! :D**


	59. Coffee

**This is Prompt No. 49-Coffee**

Mitchie was sound asleep with Shania cradled in her arms when a pleasant aroma began to drift through the room. Mitchie's head twisted to the side and her eyes opened slightly at the fragrant smell. "Mmm," she whispered, shifting her body and the baby in her arms.

Footsteps could be heard in the kitchen, and Caitlyn peeked her head into the bedroom. When she saw that Mitchie was awake, she smiled widely. "How're you feeling?" she whispered, trying not to wake Shania.

Mitchie nodded, afraid that if she spoke too loud she might wake the baby. "I'm okay," she responded, trying not to shift too much. "What's that smell?"

Caitlyn grinned. "Does it smell good?" she asked, smirking.

Mitchie nodded and whispered, "Yes."

Caitlyn held up her finger. "Hold on," she instructed Mitchie. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a steaming cup.

Mitchie's eyes widened and lit up at the same time. "Coffee?" she whispered excitedly.

Caitlyn laughed at her friend's excitement. "Yes, coffee. Are you thirsty?"

"I am now," Mitchie told her, shifting Shania so that she could hold out her hand eagerly. With the motion, Shania awoke, waving her little fists in the air.

Caitlyn laughed at the little girl's antics. "Here you go," she said, handing the cup to Mitchie, being careful not to let the warm ceramic touch Shania's skin.

Mitchie sniffed the coffee for a moment, testing to make sure that the smell would not make her sick like it had when she had been pregnant, but she found that it smelled wonderful. With a slight amount of glee, she took a deep sip of the liquid, a huge grin stretching across her face. "This is amazing!" she exulted.

Caitlyn chuckled. "It's the little things in life," she teased.

Shania waved her fists again, opening and closing her tiny hands in the coffee cup's direction. A gurgling cry issued from her, but she didn't continue, so Mitchie smiled, stroking her daughter's little, downy head. "Sorry, my darling," she crooned, planting a kiss on the baby's cheek. "You'll have to wait a few years before you can drink coffee, but I think there's something you'll like better."

Caitlyn helped Mitchie set her cup on the side table and smiled. "I'll give you two some privacy." With that, she stepped out into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind her.

Mitchie began to nurse her daughter, stroking Shania's little head softly. "You remind me so much of your father," she told her daughter. "I miss him so much, but you are a little piece of him." She held Shania closer and whispered, "I love you so much, my darling."

Mitchie finished nursing Shania and began to rock her just as she heard a knock on the door. "Come in!" she called.

Caitlyn peeked her head in the door and asked, "Are you up for some company?" she asked with a grin.

Mitchie smiled back, knowing who would be on the other side of the door. "Sure," she said. "We've had a few hours to ourselves and now it's time to meet the family," she whispered to Shania, whose eyelids were beginning to drift closed again.

Sure enough, in tiptoed Nate, Jason, the general, and Brown. By the looks on their faces when Mitchie turned the blanket down so that they could see the baby's face, Mitchie knew that her daughter had already twisted four men around her tiny little fingers. "She's so tiny!" Jason exclaimed, eyeing her fingers, with their perfect little nails.

Nate rolled his eyes and elbowed his friend teasingly. "She's a baby," he told Jason.

"Yeah, well-" Jason began in defense, but the general interrupted their argument.

"How are you feeling, Mitchie?" he asked sincerely.

Mitchie knew that he wanted a truthful answer, not the usual, "I'm fine," so she said, "Slightly tired, rather sore, outrageously happy."

Nate and Jason both grinned while Caitlyn refilled Mitchie's coffee cup in the corner. "Now that you've seen the baby," Caitlyn informed them, "you should be heading along. Mitchie needs to rest up."

Nate stepped forward and kissed Mitchie's forehead. "Shane would be so proud," he told her softly, looking down at his niece. "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," Mitchie said sincerely.

Jason was the next one to step forward. "Congratulations," he told her, kissing her forehead as well. "She's perfect."

Mitchie laughed and nodded at his comment. "Wait until she's two," she warned. "We'll see how perfect she is then."

Jason chuckled. "Guess we will," he said as he turned to leave the room.

Brown, who had been staring at his great-niece in awe, stepped forward and kissed Mitchie's cheeks. "At least your organs can return to their normal places," he said, with his face alight.

Mitchie worked hard to keep the laughter from bubbling over as she nodded and said, "So true. I feel better already."

Brown nodded, convinced. "I knew you would," he told her and took his leave.

Mitchie glanced at Caitlyn, who was also trying not to laugh, and couldn't hold it back any longer. She let out a laugh that made Shania fuss until she drew the baby close to her chest. The general, the only other well-wisher in the room, laughed as well, right along with Caitlyn.

"Congratulations, Mitchie," he told her. "Like Nate said, Shane would be so proud if he could be here."

Mitchie tipped her head in acknowledgement. "Thank you," she said.

"How soon do you think you'll be able to get up and move around easily?" the general asked.

The question startled Mitchie, and she had to look to Caitlyn for help after stuttering for a while. "She should be able to move easily in three weeks," Caitlyn said confidently.

The general seemed to be tallying something in his head, for his face took on a thoughtful look that only appeared when he was deep in thought. "I suppose that that will work," he muttered to himself.

"What will work?" Mitchie asked, confused.

The general turned to look at her and said, "The time schedule. Yes, it'll work nicely."

"Schedule for what?" Mitchie pressed, feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach.

The general eyed Shania before he said, "We have a new mission for you. We can give you three weeks time, and then it's time for you to go."

"What about Shania?" Mitchie asked, fearing the answer, but needing to know.

The general glanced back at Shania and said, "Shania stays here. You can't take her with you."

Mitchie unconsciously held her baby tighter. "Okay," she said, her voice shaking although she was trying to be brave. "Where am I going?"

The general looked grave as he said, "You, Mitchie _Torres_, are going back home, to the Torres plantation in Virginia."

**A/N: Uh oh! :D Comments? Please review, and thank you guys so much! Over 300 reviews! You guys are amazing!**


	60. Old

**This is Prompt No. 60-Old**

It was late at night, under the cover of darkness and the confusion of blowing snow, that Mitchie made her escape. She had left Shania with Caitlyn and Nate, who had promised to look after her until Mitchie could come back for her, and had bundled up against the cold. She made her way almost silently down the tunnel leading to the buggy tunnel, not wanting anyone to see her.

"Ready, Miss?" the driver of the buggy asked when Mitchie had climbed into the buggy.

She nodded. "Yes," she said softly.

The horse started off, and Mitchie sat back to relax. She knew that she had two hours ahead of her before she could do anything, so she might as well relax. She cringed; two hours to think about what she was doing. "Don't think like that," she hissed at herself.

For the next one hundred and twenty minutes, Mitchie tried to focus on anything she could think of, as long as it didn't have any relevancy to her actions from now until tomorrow night. She tried to focus on Shane, but the pain was too sharp, so she stored away the memories until she reached her destination. When she had planned this escape, she had thought that she would have plenty of topics to think on that would not remind her off the life she was suddenly leaving behind, but that did not turn out to be the case. Everything she thought about somehow returned to life at the base in some way or another.

Finally, feeling like she was going to explode, Mitchie slid to the front of her seat and leaned over so that she could speak into the driver's ear. "Excuse me," she began.

Not having to guide the horse while it was on the tracks, the driver turned around to face her. "Yes, Miss?" he asked politely.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Mitchie prefaced, "but would you mind talking to me? I feel rather confined and lonely in the back seat."

The driver looked surprised. Mitchie guessed that not many people asked him to speak to them very often. "Uh, I-I suppose," he stuttered, unsure.

Suddenly, Mitchie felt horrible for putting him on the spot like that. She knew that if anyone suddenly asked her to start speaking, she wouldn't be able to think of a single thing. "I'm terribly sorry," she said sincerely, knowing that the driver, from the angle he was seated at, could see the blush creeping over her cheeks. "That was unfair of me. Forgive me."

She started to sit back, resigned to trying to think of abstract things such as clocks and clouds, when the driver waved her back. "It's no problem," he assured her. "You just caught me by surprise. I'd love to keep you company, but I don't know what to say." He shrugged and looked sheepish. "It gets rather lonely up here too."

Mitchie smiled, and she was surprised at how genuine the smile felt. "It seems that we can help each other out," she remarked.

The driver nodded, but when he saw Mitchie waiting on him expectantly, he cleared his throat and asked, "What should I talk about?"

"Anything you'd like," Mitchie told him openly. "Would you tell me about yourself?"

The driver blushed. "Aw, Miss, that isn't something you'd be interested in."

Mitchie rolled her eyes comically, surprised once again by how happy she felt at the moment. "Well, I highly doubt you lived under a rock, so I'm sure you have some interesting stories to tell."

The driver smiled. "I suppose you have a point there," he conceded and began to speak. He told Mitchie all about his childhood home in Alabama, his teenaged stunts, and some of his adult adventures, making her laugh in places and groan at his stupidity in others. The time flew by for the two of them, and before Mitchie knew it, they had pulled up to the end of the line.

"Thank you so much," she told the driver. "I enjoyed listening to you."

The driver tipped his hat in her direction. "You're most welcome," he told her. "Thanks for listening. Most people wouldn't do that."

He helped Mitchie step down from the buggy and she gave him a small curtsy. "It was my pleasure," she told him and raised a hand in farewell as she began to walk away.

"Miss?" the driver called when she got to the top of the staircase leading into the theater.

Mitchie turned to face him. "Yes?"

The driver wrung his cap nervously between his hands, and Mitchie began to worry that his brim would lose its shape if he kept that motion up. "Please be careful, wherever you're going. Washington is a dangerous place these days."

Mitchie, touched by his concern, thanked him again and promised, "I'll be very careful."

She turned and opened the door, finding herself once again in the prop room. Even though Mitchie knew that the theater was safe, the shadows and deep corners of the establishment played havoc with her imagination. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found herself outside in the crisp, cold air. Pulling her coat tightly around her, Mitchie began to make her way to the section of town she wanted. The streets were relatively quiet, and Mitchie only ducked behind a stack of crates once to let a party of friends stumble down the street without noticing her.

Soon, her feet and her heart were leading her right to where she wanted to be: The old bench where she and Shane had sat those long months ago. Mitchie sat down, feeling the old wood groan in protest, and leaned back against the frame, ignoring the snow that she displaced in the meantime. As she gazed out into the night, the only light on the street coming from the street lanterns, the world she found herself in seemed to shift.

No longer did she feel alone and hurt, away from her daughter and the husband she loved, she felt safe. No longer did she feel like her heart was torn in half, she felt whole. Being here, she could close her eyes and imagine that her life was different, and less hazardous. She could imagine that she was perfectly normal, with her husband home, and her baby in her arms, free from a job that could bring an untimely death at any given moment.

A fresh gust of cold air blew snow into Mitchie's face, effectively bringing her out of her wishful thinking. She shivered, shaking her head so that some of the snow would fall out of her hair. She glanced around and realized that the sky had dimmed even more, making the night difficult to see through. She hadn't realized how long she had been out in the downtown section of Washington. She stood up quickly, realizing that she must be going. Someone would figure out soon enough that she was gone.

Mitchie began the long trip to her destination, closing her eyes as she waited to arrive. When her mode of transportation stopped, Mitchie opened her eyes and nodded to the driver. Someone was there to meet her, and held out his hand to help her down. "Feeling better?" he asked.

Mitchie nodded and smiled, opening her arms so that he could place a precious bundle into her hands. "I feel much better," she told him as she rocked her daughter. "And I'm ready to go. Tonight has helped me a lot."

Nate nodded and led the way back into the base, Mitchie following closely behind him, ready for the mission she was to embark on in a few hours.

**A/N: Thought she was going to run away?? :D Hope you liked it! Thank you so much for all your reviews and comments. Love you guys! :D**


	61. Strangers

**This is Prompt No. 91-Strangers**

Mitchie left the base the next morning after hugging her family tightly and sharing a tearful goodbye with her daughter. When it was Caitlyn's turn for a hug, Mitchie pulled her friend close and whispered in her ear, "If something happens to me-"

"Nothing will happen to you," Caitlyn hissed, giving Mitchie a slight shake. "Nothing."

Mitchie shook her head stubbornly. "Just promise me that if something does, you'll make sure that Shania remembers who I am."

Caitlyn nodded solemnly, her own stubbornness showing through as she replied, "She won't need me to remind her. You'll be here for a long time to come." However, Mitchie's look became so pleading that she nodded hesitantly and said, "No matter what, she won't ever forget you. If you aren't here to make that perfectly clear, then Nate and I will take care of it for you."

"Thank you," Mitchie said sincerely.

She gave Caitlyn one last look and then moved to stand in front of the general. "You remember your story, correct?" he asked.

Mitchie nodded, unconsciously fingering her short hair out of nervousness. "Yes," she said.

"Good," the general said with a nod. He looked Mitchie up and down, examining her outfit and making sure that every piece of the ensemble was in place. "You look the part."

Mitchie looked over at Brown, who was trying not to cry at her departure. "It's all thanks to Brown," she said, directing the credit his way.

The general nodded in acknowledgement and then said, "You'd better go now," he said. You'll want to arrive before dark."

Mitchie nodded. "Very well," she said. She turned and looked back at her family and saw Shania perched on Caitlyn's hip, clinging to her possessively. The sight, the idea that her daughter would not remember her if she didn't come back, nearly broke Mitchie's heart. Only a few minutes had passed, and her baby had already adjusted to another woman's arms.

She bit her lip and lunged forward, hugging first Shania and then Caitlyn once again before she turned her back on them and left the base, not looking back even once. She made her way up through the cupboard of the old house and stood shakily when she reached the top. Her knees threatened to give out as she once again remembered the scene she had just left.

"Stop!" she ordered herself. "You can't think that way."

With that order in mind, Mitchie squared her shoulders and stepped toward the door, pushing it open and walking out into the open. She found an agent from another division of the UUS seated on a horse, waiting for her. He tipped his hat and offered his hand so that she could mount the horse. "Ready?" he asked as she gripped the sides of his shirt.

"Yes," she said.

With a spur, the horse shot forward. Mitchie's grip on the agent's shirt tightened as gravity pulled her backwards. She was soon able to settle into the gentle rhythm of the horse's gait and her mind wandered as she headed closer and closer to her old home. Could she really do what was being expected of her? Could she simply walk into her old world and pretend that the last segment of her life had never happened?

Mitchie snorted. "Unlikely," she said aloud.

"What?" the agent in front of her asked, turning slightly in the saddle.

Mitchie blushed, realizing that she had spoken out loud. "Nothing," she shouted to be heard over the whistle of the wind in her ears. "Just talking to myself."

Nothing more was said for the rest of the ride, and soon, Mitchie began to recognize landmarks. Places became clear once more, and she began counting down the miles before they reached the plantation. Just outside the first town, the agent pulled the horse up sharply. "Whoa!" he called. He offered Mitchie a hand again and explained, "This is as far as I'm ordered to take you."

Mitchie nodded and took the hand offered so that she could swing down from the saddle. "Thank you," she told the agent.

He tipped his hat to her and whirled his horse around. "Good luck," he said as he rode away, kicking up dust as he went.

Normally, a woman would step back from such a dust cloud, fearful that it would ruin either her hair or her dress, but Mitchie stayed where she was. Any dust she could get on her would further her story in a useful way. For a moment, she eyed the dust on the road, thinking about picking it up and sprinkling it on, but then shook her head and turned away. She wasn't _that_ desperate.

She began walking, coming upon the first town after an hour. As she walked down the main street, Mitchie tried to ignore the stares and whispers that were directed her way. She tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling of having to look down at the road while she walked. Most of all, she tried to ignore the pitying glances of the Virginian women who eyed her up and down and whispered.

Mitchie gritted her teeth. She knew that she looked terrible. Her hair had been styled to look as though a proper comb hadn't been run through it in ages, her clothes were dirty and faded, her apron had traces of blood on it, and her shoes looked like they were about to fall off. She had a collage of colors around her eye and temple, creating a deep, ugly bruise, and her fingernails were dirty and chewed. All in all, she looked no better than a prison of war, which was exactly her goal.

She walked for three more hours, making her way as slowly, and as tiredly, as she could, kicking up dust whenever possible and coating her already dusty shoes and the hem of her skirt. "Whoever invented skirts should be shot," she muttered under her breath as she walked, feeling the heat beating down on the many layers she wore and creating a trickle of sweat that ran down her spine.

Finally, she reached the area of her parents' plantation and paused to take a breath and steady herself. She could do this. She slumped down a little further and began walking towards the gate of the plantation. She slipped inside, glad that there was no one, not even the family slaves, in sight. She needed time to think about her approach.

She had made it all the way down the long drive and up to the plantation steps and still could not think of anything. "Play with it," Mitchie muttered, repeating the advice Jason had given her before she had left. She raised her hand and gave an open-palmed knock, trying to make it sound week and pleading.

There was a scuffle and a loud banging inside, and then a shrill, "Oh, never mind!" that Mitchie knew could only come from her mother. The door opened and Mrs. Torres herself stood behind it. When she saw Mitchie, battered, bruised, and looking feverish, she screamed slightly and then clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and unbelieving. "Mitchelle," she whispered.

"Mother," Mitchie whispered weakly, and then her eyes rolled back and she slumped against the door, crashing to the ground because her mother didn't try to catch her. Training kept her from wincing as she made contact with the wood, but her eyes rolled sarcastically behind her eyelids on their own. Some things would never change. Mrs. Torres was probably worried that some of the dirt would spatter onto her clothes.

As if to solidify her assumption, Mrs. Torres called out, "You, girl, find my husband in his study. He'll have to come get her. I can't get my dress dirty."

The next thing Mitchie knew, she was being carried upstairs by a pair of arms that held her carefully, possessively, and she knew without a doubt that it was her father. She was placed gently on a bed and was left alone with a maid assigned to check on her periodically. Mentally, she began counting the minutes. She would lie in bed for an hour and then wait until the maid came to check on her again before she "awoke."

Counting kept her occupied, but not interested, and she was pleased when she reached one hour. Now, all she had to do was to wait for the maid to open the door.

The maid arrived soon after and Mitchie "awoke" at the sound. The maid scurried down the hall to get Mitchie's parents, who arrived soon after, coming in through the door quietly so as not to scare her with their suddenness. "Mitchie?" her father asked as he stepped closer to the bed. "Honey?"

Mitchie turned her head to focus on them and she almost gasped. She had expected her memories of them to be rather fuzzy, perhaps slightly distorted, but nothing compared to the way she saw them now. Gone were the parental figures that Mitchie had expected. She felt no connection with these two adults that stood in front of her. It was as though they were strangers and not family, and that realization somehow made it easier for Mitchie to go through with her plans, for they were not family, they were just another case.

And so began her mission.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review! It makes my day! :D**


	62. Lies

**This is Prompt No. 10-Lies**

Practically the first rule a child learns is never to tell lies. The child is told that lies are bad, obviously untrue, and if told, punished for. Somehow, that rule was overlooked in the Torres household. If it hadn't been overlooked, Mitchie wouldn't be sitting up in her old bed, hands clenched in fists under the blankets, telling her parents that she had made the biggest mistake of her life by running away.

"I realize that it was stupid," she said, her face screwing up convincingly as though the very thought of what she had been through pained her, "but what could you really expect? You both know that I idolized Mitchell, and when he asked me to help him, I agreed. I bought his story about the poor slaves and the way that they should have their own rights, and I helped him and Anna escape. It wasn't until they left that I realized how much trouble I was in." Mitchie paused, hesitating as though she couldn't bear to talk about what had happened to her.

Her father put out his hand comfortingly, even though he was seated too far away for the gesture to do any good. "You don't have to talk about it, darlin'," he assured her, but his suave accent no longer held the comfort and familiarity that it used to. Now, Mitchie saw her parents for what they really were. Her father's comfort meant nothing. He only said what he did out of politeness, hoping that she would actually talk.

"_You have to be convincing,"_ she reminded herself. "No," she said with a sniffle and a shake of her head, "I want to talk about it." She looked up at her father with eyes round and wide with false trust. "If I talk about what's happened, do you think the dreams will go away?" She rubbed her arms briskly as though the very thought of the "nightmares" gave her chills.

"Undoubtedly," her father said eagerly, leaning forward unconsciously.

Mitchie nodded. "You're right." She grinned weakly at her parents. "Talking it out always helps." She took a deep breath and dove headlong into her lie. "I wasn't exactly sure where I was when Mitchell and Anna dropped me off. Mitchell pointed in a direction and told me that home was that way. Again, I believed him." Mitchie caught herself mid-wince and berated herself. She could do this. Why, in his last letter to her, Mitchell had even helped her with her story so that it would sound more convincing. He hated not being told what she was doing, but he was resolved to doing whatever he could for her so that she could be as safe as possible.

"And?" Mitchie's mother prompted her.

Mitchie's father placed a hand on his wife's arm. "Now, now, dear," he cautioned. "Don't rush her. She's obviously been through a lot since the last time we saw her. There's no need to push her now."

Mitchie barely refrained from rolling her eyes. How had she missed all this when she had been living in this house? She knew the answer to that one, though: It had been part of her life, and she had overlooked it. In that moment, Mitchie understood why the people of the south believed in slavery so wholeheartedly the way they did. It was, and had always been, a part of their lives, and they had overlooked the people within the slaves.

"Michelle?" her father prompted subtly, having obviously forgotten his former advice to his wife.

It was now or never. "The way he pointed me was the wrong way," Mitchie said, surprised that she could lie and betray with such ease. "It led me right into a Union camp. They captured me, thinking that I was a spy. When I told them that I wasn't, they tried to torture me for information." Mitchie gave a shudder. "It was horrible."

Mitchie's father gave Mrs. Torres a look, and she turned to her daughter, smiling falsely. "I'm sure it was," she said, and the hesitated. "Darlin'," she drawled, but the endearment was so false that Mitchie was surprised that she even bothered.

"The camp was raided two weeks ago and some Confederates took care of me as best they could, but they didn't stay long." Mitchie's hand crept up to the bruise on her temple and said, "They pointed me in the right direction, and I've been trying to get here ever since." She looked hopefully at her parents. "I realize that I've made a huge mistake, and I'm sorry, but I was hoping that I could pick up my life here again?" The statement came out as a hesitant question. "I want to put everything far behind me."

Mr. Torres exchanged a glance with his wife and then nodded. "Of course you can!" he exclaimed, over excitedly.

Mitchie's mother nodded curtly. "We're having a party in a few days. Are you able to attend?" Her eyes flickered to Mitchie's bruised face and Mitchie knew instantly that what she really meant was, "Will you look well enough not to embarrass me?"

Mitchie's father huffed. "Darlin', she's only been here for a few hours. Maybe she shouldn't attend this ball. It might be too much for her."

Mitchie's mother rose, her hands planted on her hips, stubbornness etched into every pore on her face. "She came back and wants to slip back into life as she knew it. Life goes on, dear." She turned to Mitchie. "Are you able or not?"

Mitchie tried her best to give a convincing, sickeningly-sweet smile. "I'm sure I'll be just fine." She clapped her hands together excitedly. "What kind of party?"

Her mother shrugged, trying to act unimpressed. "Only the generals of the Confederates, some important, influential friends, and some-"

"Ooh!" Mitchie cut her off with another clap of her hands. "Sounds exciting!" She could feel her cheeks heating up and knew that the color would be taken as excitement and not as the shame she felt for lying so many times in a row without pausing or asking for repentance.

Mrs. Torres' eyes narrowed. "You weren't this excited about parties when you left," she said suspiciously.

Once again, Mitchie lied smoothly. "Mother, we had those parties almost weekly." She shrugged. "I didn't realize what I was missing out on until I could no longer get dressed up and dance around."

Mitchie's father asked, "I thought you hated dancing."

Mitchie smiled and spoke the truth for the first time. "I learned to love dancing when I was in France."

Her father nodded and shrugged, turning to his wife and saying, "She has a point."

Her mother eyed her for a moment before nodding. "I guess she does," was all she said. She rose from her chair and said, "I suppose I'll have to send a servant up to get the dresses from the attic."

Mitchie pretended to look hurt. "You packed away my clothes?"

Her father quickly said, "We weren't sure what had happened to you when you didn't arrive at the boarding school, so we just moved everything temporarily until you found your way back to us."

Mitchie smiled widely, acting as though she completely understood. "Oh," was all she said.

"The party's at the end of the week," Mrs. Torres told Mitchie, pausing on her way out the door. "Please find a suitable dress before then. We'll leave you to get some more rest. I'm sure you're exhausted."

Mr. Torres took the subtle hint that he was supposed to leave as well and rose from his chair, pressing the back of his hand affectionately to Mitchie's cheek. For a moment, Mitchie was swept back to her childhood when he used to do that to her as a greeting and a parting gesture, and her resolve to stay separated from all emotions regarding her family wavered slightly, but then she saw her mother's eyes narrow, and her resolve strengthened again.

"Get some rest, and we'll see if you can come down for dinner," he promised her as though coming down and sitting at the overdone table in the dining room would make everything better.

"Okay," Mitchie said cheerily with a nod. She pulled the sheets up a little more and snuggled into them, a contented look on her face until the door closed with a soft click. Then, she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. "Right," she muttered sarcastically. "You'd think I was born yesterday or something."

She didn't know if her parents were involved in something more sinister, or if they were just very shallow people, but what she did know was that her mission was about to get very complicated, very quickly. Mentally, she began running through all the information she knew about this party. Five days were all she had to come up with a plan.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Please review and tell me what you think! :D**


	63. Style

**This is Prompt No. 53-Style**

It was painfully obvious to Mitchie that while she had been away, the styles in Virginia had changed once again. She spent the five days before the party trying on her old dresses and having them approved by her mother's watchful eyes. None of the dresses were approved, and with a sigh, her mother agreed that it was time to get a different gown. With a clap of her hands and a crisp order to the maid, Mrs. Torres was able to order a buggy for Mitchie, a maid, and herself.

The ride into town was quiet, and the silence bothered Mitchie, making her edgy. Her mother took her squirming for discomfort and said tartly, "Oh Michelle, do stop fussing. It's just a dress fitting, not a torture chamber." Mitchie reminded herself to flinch convincingly as her mother spoke those "dreaded" words. Mrs. Torres then said, with a hint of remorse in her voice, "Do forgive me. That was the wrong comparison to use."

Mitchie nodded slightly to let her mother know that she didn't take any offense. "It's fine," she said, brushing it off. "The memories are beginning to fade slightly."

"Good," her mother said in an effort not to be rude.

They reached town and the driver helped them alight. Mitchie peered around the town she had known for many years and grinned. Nothing had changed much, although with meat being so scarce, there were actual rats hanging in the windows of the meat store. Mitchie shuddered slightly and turned back to the dress shop. "How does this place make a profit?" she asked as the three women walked into the shop.

Her mother glanced at her as though she was being absurd. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked.

Mitchie pointed flippantly towards the meat shop. "Rats are being sold for such a high price because there's no meat left thanks to the war, but people can afford to buy new dresses?"

"Of course!" Mitchie's mother said in a voice that plainly indicated that she thought Mitchie was being silly. "True, the prices are higher now, but when was fashion ever cheap?" The shrug in her shoulders told Mitchie that she didn't really care how much the dresses cost, just as long as they didn't embarrass her.

The dress shop was decidedly different than the last time Mitchie had been inside it. There were many more bare walls and empty stands. There were fewer choices and the colors looked slightly worn, as though they had been there, hanging on the models for a while. "Lots of business," Mitchie remarked in a low voice to the maid, making the latter girl smile and even giggle slightly.

The bell above the door had signaled their arrival, and now a gentleman with a tape measure slung around his neck came running out from the back, looking eager to assist anyone he possibly could. When he saw the three women, his smile widened even more. "Good afternoon, ladies!" he greeted them cheerfully. "What can I do for you today?"

"We're looking for new dresses for the party at the end of the week," Mrs. Torres said, speaking for the little group.

"Ah, I see!" the little man said. He glanced at each lady and said, "Three gowns it is."

"They must be stylish," Mrs. Torres warned.

The little gentleman turned and smiled cheerily at Mrs. Torres. "When have my creations been anything but?" he asked.

Mrs. Torres smiled tolerantly. "Point taken," she agreed.

He whirled away from them and disappeared into the back, returning soon with a box. Mitchie closed her eyes for a moment, dreading this part of the dress fitting. Standing on that very box, never moving for at least an hour, had never been one of her high priorities. "Who would like to go first?" the gentleman asked.

"I will," Mrs. Torres told him, standing up and throwing her wrap at the maid before she stepped daintily up onto the box.

Mitchie rolled her eyes and let her mind wander for the next hour, trying to tune out the droning of her mother's questions and the tailor's answers. She really didn't care what the fashion was, as long as she looked nice in it. Mitchie hated to abide by fashion, because fashion tended to look silly and unnecessary. She was brought out of her reverie by the maid's gentle tap on her shoulder. "Yes?" she asked, still dazed and rather lost in thought.

The maid bobbed a slight curtsy. "The tailor's ready for you," she said.

Mitchie blushed at being caught daydreaming. "Oh, right," she said, standing up quickly. She smiled at the maid. "Thank you."

She stepped up onto the box and her turn of torture began. When the tailor placed the tape measure around Mitchie's waist, she inconspicuously sucked in her breath. Having a baby had added a slight roundness to her figure that an unmarried woman simply didn't have, and she could not let the tailor find that roundness. Her mind and muscles screamed at having to hold her posture for so long, but a mistake could be disastrous, so she bore the pain as best as she could. When the gentleman finished with her waist, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Once he had finished the measurements, the tailor then suggested colors for each of the dresses. Mrs. Torres chose a loud gold color, despite the tailor's subtle hints that it might clash with her skin tone. The maid was given a plain brown, but she didn't complain. After all, it was a privilege for her to even be allowed to attend in a new dress. When he reached Mitchie, he glanced carefully at her for a long while and then said, "I think I have the perfect color for you." He disappeared into the back and came out with a bolt of sea green cloth. "What do you think of this?" he asked.

Mitchie's eyes widened as she glanced at the material. It seemed to shimmer as the tailor shifted it nervously in his hands. She nodded, trying to hide her eagerness. "I approve," she said happily. "Thank you. That is a very good choice."

The tailor ducked his head at the praise, afraid of appearing too proud. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Mrs. Torres stood suddenly. "I believe we should be going," she said. "Please be sure to get the dresses to the Torres Mansion by Friday morning."

The tailor nodded and stood to assist Mitchie's mother with her wrap. "Thank you ladies, and good day!"

Mitchie was the last to retreat from the shop, hanging back a little so that she could whisper to the tailor, "Would you please keep my dress simple?" she asked.

The tailor smiled at her and nodded. "I know the perfect style for you," he promised her. "You'll look lovely."

Mitchie nodded and thanked him sincerely. "Good day," she said as she hurried out of the shop.

Her mother and the maid were already seated in the buggy, so Mitchie scrambled in, mumbling her apologies. "Couldn't find my glove," she said as an excuse.

Her mother waved off the excuse and turned to her maid, breaking down in her excitement and talking to her servant. "I was quite pleased with my selection," she began.

"Yes ma'am," the maid responded dutifully.

"The styles these days quite intrigue me," Mrs. Torres went on, and soon she was off in her own little world of style and fashion.

Mitchie turned to look out the window, drowning her mother's talking out once again. Truly, she hated style.

**A/N:** **Hope you liked it! Please review! It makes my day! :D**


	64. Glitter

**This is Prompt No. 37-Glitter**

Mitchie was sitting in front of her mirror, gently reapplying her ever-fading bruise coloring when she heard a knock at the door. Her eyes widened hurriedly as she finished the last stroke and jammed the contents of the kit into the bottom drawer of her vanity. "One moment!" she called as she leapt up, pushing her hair out of her face. "Come in!"

The door opened and the maid that had accompanied Mitchie and her mother to the dress shop came in, holding a parcel in her hands. "Your dress is here, miss," she said politely.

Mitchie smiled and took the dress from the maid's arms. "Thank you very much," she told the maid.

The maid curtsied. "Will you need help, miss?" she asked, hands clasped together in front of her.

Mitchie pretended to think for a moment, glancing first at the dress and then at the vanity where all her hair supplies lay. "No, I think not," she finally replied, drawing out her hesitancy. "Thank you though." She smiled and made a shooing motion with her hands. "You go get changed yourself. The dresses arrived late, and it's almost time for people to be arriving."

The maid bobbed again. "Thank you, miss," she said and slipped out the door as quietly as she had come in.

Mitchie turned and set the parcel on her bed, eagerly unwrapping the packaging. She wanted to see what the little tailor had come up with. When the paper fell away, Mitchie couldn't help but stare. With the feeling that the dress might disintegrate under her fingers, Mitchie picked it up and turned toward the mirror, holding the dress up in front of her so that she might see the full effect of its loveliness.

"Beautiful," she whispered.

With care, she set the dress back on the bed and began to slip out of the day dress she had put on while she had been waiting for the delivery. Without someone to help her, it was a difficult task, but with some wiggling and squirming, she managed to slide out of its confines. Then, she began to dress for the party. On went the stockings and the petticoats with relative ease, but Mitchie gasped aloud when she slid on the corset. It had been fitted according to her measurements taken that day at the dress shop and she was now finding it hard to breath.

"Oh gosh!" she hissed as she gave it the final tug that settled it into place. Corsets, when fitted according to your waist size without cheating, were bad enough, but this was pure torture!

With that done, she slipped the dress over her head, sighing as the silk slipped coolly over her shoulders. The buttons on the back required a bit of twisting and stretching, but Mitchie managed to button them all, sighing with relief as she reached the last button. Next, she headed to her vanity to sweep her hair up into a fashionable style. She tried several before she found a simple one that suited her. It wasn't terribly fashionable, but like the dress, it looked beautiful. Doing her hair in such a style by herself was slightly difficult, but she soon found that like the everyday hairstyle tricks Caitlyn had taught her, ball styles had their tricks as well.

"There!" she exclaimed, satisfied, as she examined herself in the mirror.

She bent down and slipped on her shoes, and then she was ready. Now came the hardest part of throwing a ball: the waiting. Mitchie glanced toward the clock in the corner of her room and realized that she had over two hours before even the earliest guests began to arrive. She rose from her vanity and moved to stand in front of her dresser.

On the dresser stood her jewelry box, and she dug around in there, looking for the perfect piece to complete her ensemble. "Ah," she whispered to herself as she drew out a short string of silky pearls and held them up to her throat. "Perfect."

She unclasped the necklace and fitted it around her slim neck. "If only Shane could see me now," Mitchie whispered. She examined herself in the vanity mirror and sighed. In her opinion, she looked almost as pretty as she had on her wedding day. A morose feeling settled over her heart, but she pushed it away before it could manifest and ruin her night. Perhaps, when everything was over, she could take the dress with her and show Shane when he came back to her.

Mitchie crossed to the window seat and sat down, glad that her window faced towards the back of the property. She could sit here and think until she was called for downstairs. As she sat on the comfortable seat, Mitchie leaned her shoulder against the pane and sighed. She missed her life at the base already, but she missed Shania fiercely. Her thoughts swirled back to her little girl, and thoughts of her baby kept her occupied for quite a while.

It was only when the shadows grew longer and the sun began to dim that Mitchie's mind turned back to the mission ahead of her. The general had explained all the specifics to her, starting by telling her that she must worm her way into the good graces of the chief Confederate officials. He had explained what information she needed to get, and told her that the UUS would be sending another agent in to "rescue" her. The "rescue," which would be a faux wedding ceremony, would get both agents out and away from the south.

Mitchie bit her lip. What would Shane say if he heard about this wedding ceremony? Would he understand that it was in the line of duty and that her love was for him, and him only, or would he become angry? Would it even be mentioned to him? "I'm so confused," she groaned.

There was an almost inaudible tap at the door and Mitchie called, "Come in!"

The maid slipped inside and her eyes widened when she saw Mitchie's dress. "Oh, miss, you look lovely!" she exclaimed, keeping her voice soft and quiet.

Mitchie smiled. "Thank you. You're dress looks beautiful on you as well."

The maid blushed and curtsied. "I-I was h-hoping that I could ask you som-something," she stuttered, embarrassed and no doubt fearful that she was completely out of line.

Mitchie smiled once again and patted the window seat. "Of course," she said. "Come sit, please."

The maid glanced toward the door. "I really shouldn't," she began, but her refusal trailed off mid-sentence and she said no more. She sat down across from Mitchie and opened her mouth, but Mitchie stopped her.

"First off," Mitchie said, "you must call me Mitchie, not miss, and _please_, don't call me Michelle." Her face screwed up in comical disgust and the maid smiled.

"Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course."

"Very well, Mitchie it is," the maid said with a smile. "I'm Louisa."

Mitchie smiled. "Pretty name for a pretty young lady," she complimented. Louisa blushed, so Mitchie quickly changed the subject. "What did you want to ask me, Louisa?"

Louisa bit her lip and asked after a moment, "May I be blunt with you?"

Mitchie frowned, confused, but nodded. "Of course."

"Why are you here?"

Mitchie was slightly shocked by the question. Well, she had said that Louisa could be blunt, and there it was, the question that had obviously been interesting her. "Uh," she began, and then remembered her story. "I'm here because this is my family."

Louisa gave her a friendly, yet disbelieving look. "That may be true," she said, "but I want to know why you're really here."

"I don't understand," Mitchie told her, confused.

"You're not who you say you are, and you're not here for the reasons you say you are," Louisa explained. "You were never a prisoner of war."

The determined look on Louisa's face made Mitchie quiver. Was her plan about to be foiled? "How would you know?" she asked, trying to bluff.

Louisa raised an eyebrow. "I was the one who bathed you when you first came here, and I was the one that reapplied that bruise of yours."

Mitchie's hand flew to her bruise and she jumped up from the window seat, remembering the bath from the first day she had come back to the plantation and how she had fallen asleep for a short while after that. "I can explain-" she began.

Louisa raised her hands for silence. "I don't want you to explain," she said. "The less I know, the less they can get out of me should they ask about you. All I want to know is: Are you fighting for or against slavery?"

"Against," Mitchie told her honestly, knowing that there was no reason to keep such an answer from her.

Louisa nodded. "Thank you," she said honestly, her gaze conveying her appreciation for what Mitchie was doing as she stood and brushed at imaginary wrinkles on her dress. "I was actually sent to fetch you. The guests are arriving. Your mother wants you to come down the main staircase. She's telling everyone about you."

Mitchie groaned. "Great," she muttered sarcastically. "Thanks for warning me."

Louisa nodded and slipped out the door. Mitchie waited an appropriate amount of time before she followed, descending the main staircase as slowly as she could. She glanced into the ballroom, knowing that the guests would be glancing at her curiously, and couldn't help but feel proud of her gown. Of a shimmering sea green, the dress seemed to glitter like the sea itself. It flowed out like a living thing from the very small train at the end of her dress, winding up to blend with her pale skin, covered modestly unlike most of the other dresses.

She smiled at the guests as she scanned the room, trying to identify the generals and commanders of the Confederates. As her eyes swept the room, they lit upon a figure in the corner next to the punch bowl and she almost stumbled from shock. Their eyes met and his orbs betrayed the same shock that hers did. His cup paused midway to his lips, and he twisted in her direction, making the buttons on his Confederate uniform sparkle slightly from the lights of the chandelier.

Mitchie's hand gripped the banister tightly and her lips formed the name that she had waited so long to say.

"Shane."

**A/N: Surprise! Liked it? Let me know!**


	65. Lovers

**This is Prompt No. 2-Lovers**

Mitchie was surprised that she made it down the stairs without falling. She was vaguely aware that her mother was introducing her to someone, and she was also surprised that she was able to smile pleasantly at whoever it was and make some small conversation with them because her attention was entirely focused on Shane.

"I beg your pardon, what?" she had to ask at one point during the conversation.

The woman she was talking to at the time turned and saw Shane standing across the room, watching them as well. "Ah yes," she said, her accent drawing out each syllable. "He's quite the looker, isn't he?"

Mitchie blushed and stammered, "I-I."

The lady waved off her protests. "Oh don't worry," she said and grinned conspiratorially. "A little lookin' never hurt anyone."

As she walked away, Mitchie thought about pressing the issue and saying that she hadn't been looking, but then she tossed her head back. Even if the world here didn't know it, he was her husband and she had every right to look at him as much as she pleased. Her cheeks flushed again but she pushed her embarrassment away and looked back at Shane, still in shock that he was here. He was still looking at her and seemed to be getting ribbed about it as well from a fellow soldier.

Mrs. Torres clapped her hands, single-handedly stopping the buzzing conversations swirling around the room and directing all of the attention towards herself. How she did it, Mitchie would never understand. "Let the dancing begin!" she called out with a false note of happiness in her voice.

As a rule, the only couple where a woman could claim a man was if they were married. Mitchie chaffed, shifting from one foot to the other in utter disappointment. Was this something like what Romeo and Juliet felt like? Did they ever stand across from each other in a ballroom, knowing that they were lovers but being unable to go to each other? "Probably," Mitchie muttered with a roll of her eyes. "They were star-crossed lovers."

Then, without warning, Shane handed his punch glass to his friend and strode right through the middle of the dance floor, weaving almost effortlessly through the swirling couples, and coming to stand right in front of Mitchie amidst whispers from the other attendees. He bowed low, a mischievous smirk on his lips the whole time. "My lady, would you take pity on me and honor me with a dance, for if you do not, I fear that my heart shall break."

Mitchie raised an eyebrow at the flirtatious speech and then realized that every woman within hearing distance was straining to hear her answer. "Well, good sir," she said with a smirk of her own, "since it seems that I already hold your delicate heart in my hand, I shall not refuse you."

The smirk on Shane's face grew wider and the butterflies in Mitchie's stomach started fluttering furiously. Were these feelings entirely proper when seeing one's husband? At the moment, Mitchie didn't care. All she cared about was being back in her husband's arms. He held out his hand to her and she took it, feeling the tingling accelerate within her stomach.

He led her onto the dance floor and began whirling her around, in and out of the other couples, holding her as close as propriety would allow. "This is why I hate formality," he whispered in her ear, making Mitchie shiver. "I want nothing more that to hold you to my heart and never let you go."

"I feel the exact same way," Mitchie told him honestly, her voice just as low as his, "but you must, for I have a job to do here."

Shane shook his head. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Mitchie tilted her head back and smirked again. "I'm afraid that that's classified information. It'll have to be extracted with…" she trailed off invitingly.

"With…" Shane prompted her.

The music ended and Mitchie bowed. "A kiss," she whispered before she turned away, heading back to her spot beside her mother on the edge of the dance floor.

For the rest of the evening, Mitchie and Shane continued to exchange glances from across the floor, aching to speak, aching to hold, simply aching to be near the other. When dinner was announced, Mitchie was glad for the break in the dancing. She looked for Shane, but he had disappeared. Disappointed, she turned back towards the dining room, following the last of the guests.

A sharp tug yanked her away from the prying eyes of her parents' society, and then she was under the stairs, in Shane's arms, being kissed so thoroughly that she couldn't think straight. When Shane finally pulled away, he whispered, "I've missed you so much."

"Me too," Mitchie responded, unable to catch her breath, much less respond with a complete sentence.

She turned her head to the side and Shane immediately put his hand to her chin, turning her head more to the side. "What happened?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"It's part of the act," Mitchie explained, knowing that he was examining her bruise. "It's not real."

Shane nodded. "Good," he said. "Otherwise, I'd need a name, a town, and a gun."

Mitchie smiled and kissed him once again. "Nothing like that," she assured him.

Shane nodded and took her by the shoulders. "Tell me," he said. "What's our baby like?"

Mitchie smiled widely, pride washing over her features. "She looks like both of us," Mitchie told him. "She's beautiful."

"She?" Shane asked excitedly.

Mitchie nodded and glanced slyly up at Shane. "Shania Michelle."

Shane let out a laugh and pulled her tightly to him. "Shania Michelle," he whispered. "I like it."

"I was hoping you'd approve," Mitchie admitted. "I didn't really relish the idea of having to get used to a different name if you didn't like that one."

Shane realized that she was teasing and laughed slightly, offering his arm to her. "We can talk more later," he promised, "but for now, Miss Torres, would you accompany me to dinner?"

Mitchie smiled and nodded, looping her arm through his. "I'd be honored," she said.

As they walked through the hall to the dining room, Mitchie realized that she had been wrong all along. Romeo and Juliet might have been star-crossed lovers, and she and Shane might have been across-the-room lovers, but Mitchie knew one thing for sure: Romeo and his charms held nothing against Shane and his love for her.

**A/N: Shoutout goes out to D0NtxGiivexUupxonxURxDReAms for her sweet note of encouragement! Thank you! And thank you to all the readers. You guys are amazing! :D**


	66. Green

**This is Prompt No. 36-Green**

Though they walked into the dining room together, Shane and Mitchie found themselves at opposite ends of the table. Mitchie sat down in her seat, regretting having to leave Shane, but exulting because of the seating arrangement. One of the generals of the Confederate Army, the youngest of the commanding officers, sat to her left, trying not to gulp down his food as fast as he could fork it into his mouth. Protocol insisted that he speak with her throughout the dinner.

"How's your dinner?" he asked stiffly in between forkfuls of food.

Mitchie tried not to groan. If she was going to get the information she wanted out of him, she would have to skip past the formalities. She smiled charmingly, and she could see in an instant that the general was quite dazzled by the young woman in front of him. "It's wonderful," she told him, letting her voice drop to a deeper, silkier voice than she usually used. She sat back for a moment, pretending to regard him. "You wouldn't by any chance be part of the ninth division, would you?"

The general looked slightly disappointed, and his gaze flickered enviously towards one of the other generals at the other end of the table. "Unfortunately," he said, his voice straining to be polite, "I haven't had the pleasure of serving under that division. We don't interact much."

Mitchie managed to look disappointed, though she was anything but. "Oh, that's too bad," she said with a sigh. "Part of the ninth division rescued me from the Union camp."

The general's eyes widened. "You were held hostage?" he asked incredulously.

Mitchie nodded. "Yes," she said, "and I was trying to explain one practice in the Confederate camp to a friend of mine, but I couldn't quite get it straight. I was hoping that you might be ninth division so that I could ask you." She "caught" herself babbling and ducked her head. "Forgive me for rambling on so."

She turned back to her bowl of soup, mentally counting down the seconds. _Three. Two. One._

"Perhaps I could help you," the general offered, scooting toward the pretty young lady who seemed to show such an interest in him.

"Are you sure?" Mitchie asked him hesitantly. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"Not at all," the general insisted. "Tell me what has you troubled and I'll try and straighten it out."

"_Oh you'll straighten it out, alright,"_ she thought. "It's like this," Mitchie said, using her hands to demonstrate as she talked, keeping the general occupied. "The Confederates keep the money they're allotted in a special place. Now, I say that it's kept with the general of the division, but my friend says that it's kept elsewhere."

"Where does this friend think it's kept?" the general asked.

Mitchie shrugged and tensed slightly as she took a huge risk. "I'm not sure," she told him, "and I don't think my friend really knows either. I think he just likes to debate me, but our debate has made me curious."

The general shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, I'd love to help put things to rights," he told her, "but I'm afraid that that information is-"

"Classified," Mitchie finished for him, her voice conveying sympathy and understanding. "I understand," she told him, still looking glum. "Really, I do." She laughed slightly. "Believe me, I know about secrecy. When the Confederates rescued me, I had to sign all sorts of papers promising not to give away any government secrets."

Her voice sounded teasing, and the general immediately asked, "You really signed papers of secrecy?"

Mitchie nodded. "I thought the stack would never end."

Servants came at that moment and cleared the table, and Mitchie spotted Louisa in the small little group. She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and turned back to the general, knowing that his story was probably about to change. "Well," he began, "if you signed papers, then I don't see that harm in clearing up your little debate."

"Really?" Mitchie asked, trying not to appear overly excited.

"Really," the general said. "You were partly right. The generals keep the money wound tightly inside of a waterproof bag."

Mitchie frowned. "Why would it have to be waterproof?" she asked.

The general grinned, "Because we keep the money in our whiskey bottles."

Mitchie's mouth fell open in actual shock. "Whisky bottles," she repeated, making sure that she had heard the general correctly.

The general nodded. "Sure! It's fire safe, easy to carry, and the last place anyone would ever look."

"That's for sure," Mitchie told him with a winning smile. People were starting to rise from their seats to head back onto the dance floor, so Mitchie knew that it was time to plant the seed of doubt. She touched the general's arm in a caressing manner, knowing that the touch would keep him ignorant. "Thank you for clearing up my problem," she told the general, "but next time, you might not want to speak so loudly." She glanced around the room warily, vaguely noticing Shane watching her with a scowl on his face. "You never know who might be a spy."

The general's eyes widened and he groaned. "How stupid of me!" he hissed. "I should know better than that!"

Mitchie patted his arm once more and smiled again. "I'm sure everything's fine, but I felt that I should warn you. Spending time with the Union soldiers taught me a bit about keeping your business to yourself." She held out her hand and batted her eyelashes. "Would it be too forward of me to ask you for a dance?"

The general gulped, surprised at the way Mitchie was breaking from tradition. After a moment though, he smiled up at her and nodded, taking her hand as he stood. "Why not?" he asked, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as he led her into the ballroom and onto the dance floor.

They moved through the steps, but Mitchie's mind was constantly reminding her feet not to step on the general's toes. She grimaced as she shuffled to make up for a lost step. Why was it so difficult to dance with men other than Shane?

As though he had heard her, Shane appeared behind the general, tapping him gently on the shoulder. "May I cut in, sir?" he asked politely, saluting as he did so.

The general grinned widely, his ego boosted by the dance and the salute. "Of course," he said and bowed to Mitchie, lifting her hand to his lips so that he could kiss her fingertips.

He moved away and Mitchie turned back to Shane, who was watching the silly general float off the floor, and she couldn't help but giggle. Shane's narrowed eyes turned and focused on her. "What?" he asked as his arms circled around her, guiding her effortlessly through the steps.

Mitchie tilted her head to the side. "I didn't realize that your eyes were green, Shane," she said, trying very hard to act serious.

"Green?" Shane asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Your eyes have changed from that beautiful brown to a horrid green color," Mitchie said, scrunching up her nose in disgust. "You wouldn't be…jealous, would you?" she teased.

At that moment, Shane understood, and he smiled a small smile. "Seeing you flirting with him didn't make me feel too well," he admitted. He pulled her slightly closer. "You're _my_ wife," he told her, as though she didn't already know.

Mitchie smiled in response. "Always and forever," she said, and then she began to give Shane all the details she had learned in a hushed voice.

"Good," Shane told her when she had finished. "We'll get the money at some point and transfer it back to base."

Mitchie nodded. "Can I ask you something?" she asked.

Shane nodded. "Of course."

"Is this where you were for all those months?"

Shane nodded. "I had to establish a connection with the people before you showed up so that it wouldn't look suspicious. I knew that it was going to be some rich family's daughter, but I had no idea that it would be you." He glanced over her face. "I've missed you so much," he said honestly. The dance ended and Shane, with a groan, stepped away from Mitchie. "I have to see you sometime without restraints."

Just as Mitchie's father strode forward to claim a dance with her, Mitchie whispered, "Tonight? My room?"

Shane smiled and whispered so that only she could hear, "I'll be there."

**A/N: Did you like it? Please review and let me know! :D**


	67. Notes

**This is Prompt No. 100-Notes**

For the next several weeks, Shane came to call on Mitchie, trying to win her hand. Her father was pleased with the match and readily agreed to let Shane court Mitchie, as long as the traditional escort was in the room. Mitchie asked if Louisa could act as her escort, and her father approved. In this way, the arrangement benefited all parties involved. Louisa was given her much-needed breaks from her many duties, Mitchie and Shane could see each other, and since Louisa knew that they weren't what they said they were, she also acted as a lookout.

Shane would bring a few Confederate notes, barely worth anything, each time he came, and he would sit and talk to Mitchie as sewed them into the skirt of her travel dress. "I plan to wear this for my wedding travel dress," she told Shane once. Then, she had looked up at him and asked, "You are planning to marry me, aren't you?"

Shane had laughed, but had quickly assured her that he had every intention of marrying her. "Again," he had added with a smirk.

Mitchie's gown was soon stuffed with Confederate notes. Shane had slowly depleted his division of the army, slipping in and out of the general's tent each night thanks to another agent soldier. She tried the dress on and was surprised at the weight. "You may have to walk slower so that I can keep up with you," she had teased when she had modeled it for Shane.

Shane had stood and tried to pick her up, putting her down swiftly in mock pain. "Well, carrying you across the threshold is definitely out of the question," he told her, earning a slight slap from her.

Once the gown was filled with notes, Mitchie and Shane both agreed that it was time to get back to the base. They began to plan out just exactly how they would go about getting married after such a short time of courtship. They were sitting in the sitting room, thinking through different plans, when Mitchie came up with a plausible one.

"I'm pregnant," she offered, knowing that if her parents thought that she was pregnant, they would force the wedding to as soon as possible.

Shane, however, took it the wrong way. He leapt up from his chair and came to kneel in front of Mitchie. "Really?" he asked excitedly. "I'm going to be a father again!"

"Whoa! Shane, stop!" Mitchie called, trying to get to him before he became too excited. "I'm not actually pregnant again. I just thought that that might be a good reason to hurry up the wedding."

"Oh," Shane said, his face falling slightly, but then he brightened up again. "Oh well. It's a good idea, but I think I have a better one."

"What?" Mitchie asked suspiciously.

Shane shook his head, teasing grin plastered on his face. "Mitchie, Mitchie," he crooned, "didn't your parents ever tell you that what your beau tells them remains a secret?"

Mitchie rolled her eyes, knowing that such a "secret" was not part of courting. "No," she said tartly, "and I think-"

"I think you talk too much," Shane told her, pulling her up from the chair and kissing her in one smooth motion.

For a long time after that, Mitchie was too far gone kissing her husband to care what he was planning. All she knew was that he wasn't holding her as tightly as she wanted him to. With a slight push, her body moved closer and his arms tightened around her just the way she wanted them to.

* * *

Shane called on Mitchie's father right after dinner, and by the smirks Mitchie was receiving from him, she couldn't help but feel that he knew exactly why Shane was calling. To his credit, Mr. Torres simply nodded when Shane asked for a chance to speak to him, putting his arm around Shane's shoulders and saying, "Why don't you join me in my study?"

Shane nodded and shot Mitchie a smile. "Sounds perfect to me," he said and the two gentlemen left Mitchie and her mother alone at the table.

"May I be excused?" Mitchie asked her mother, already rising from her chair.

Her mother nodded absently and waved her hand in dismissal. "Go," she said.

Mitchie left the table, forcing her steps to be slow and determined, not the quick, eager steps she wanted to exhibit. She ascended to her room, pacing up and down for almost an hour before she heard a slight scuffling and then there was a tap at her window. She rushed to the window and opened it. There, clinging to the side of the wall, was Shane. Her eyes widened and she immediately helped pull him into her room.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. She walked back over to the window as he brushed himself off and asked, "How on earth did you get up here?"

Shane shrugged. "That was easy," he told her. "I've climbed up harder. How do you think I got into your room the night of the party?"

She rolled her eyes, trying not to blush. "I let you in the front door."

"Oh," Shane teased flatly. "Right."

"I've married a monkey," Mitchie muttered, shutting the window and latching it securely after she had cast one more disdainful glance at it.

"A monkey?" Shane asked, and his face fell in mock disappointment. "Well then, I guess my offer's no good to you."

"What offer?" Mitchie asked.

"I came all the way over here from the camp to talk to your father," Shane began, shaking his head in disappointment. "I poured out my heart, telling him how much I was in love with you and how I would go mad if he didn't let me marry you. He gives me permission and I climb all the way up that treacherous wall, only to find that you've gone and married a monkey while I was otherwise occupied."

Mitchie raised an eyebrow, unmoved by his mock rant, and said, "I thought you said that you've climbed up harder things than my wall."

"I lied," Shane responded tartly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mitchie said, trying very hard to hide her amusement, and not entirely succeeding. "It pains me to say this, but now I have two reasons for refusing you. You proposed to me, a married woman, and you lied to me as well." She shook her head. "Soon, I'm going to have to start making a list."

Shane's eyes darkened predatorily and he strode towards her, grasping her wrists but leaving her plenty of room to move, and backing her up against the bedpost. "I think that you'd better forget about your list," he said, his voice comically threatening. "I know far too much about you for you to refuse me. So I suggest that you accept the fact that I'm going to marry you and act ridiculously pleased about it as well."

Mitchie knew that he was trying not to laugh by the way he was screwing up his eyes, and she had a hard time not laughing as well. "Very well," she said. "I'll marry you, and I'll be ridiculously happy about it as well." She let out a slight laugh before she caught herself, tossing her hair back behind her and asking haughtily, "Better?"

Shane grinned and leaned in to kiss her. "Much," he whispered.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! I only received 2 reviews for the last chapter, so please review because that made me so sad. :(**


	68. Love

**This is Prompt No. 5-Love**

Mitchie _was_ ridiculously happy for the next few weeks as she began preparing for her wedding. Her mother flittered around, happier than Mitchie had ever seen her before, twittering away at how excited she was about having a son in the army. Mitchie winced, knowing the barb underneath the excited words was meant for her brother, the one that had refused to foolishly fight.

However, not even the cruel thoughts about her brother could dampen Mitchie's excitement. When Shane would visit her, under Louisa's "watchful" eye, he would laugh as he watched her talk animatedly, even using her hands to express her feelings. "You've done this once before," he told her. "Why are you so excited?"

Mitchie turned away from the window that she had blissfully been staring out of and said, "I'm excited because getting married is an exciting step." She sat down next to him and explained. "When we got married, it was wonderful, and no matter how amazing this wedding is, my favorite will always be the one at the base, but this wedding is special in a different way."

Shane frowned. "How so?" he asked.

Mitchie smirked. "Now, the whole world will know that you're mine."

Shane snorted, his eyes shining as he glanced at his wife. "Possessive are we?" he teased.

"Hey!" Mitchie cried, defending herself, "I can't help it if I don't like it when some young girl from around town starts trying to bat her eyelashes at you." She grinned again. "You're mine already, but everyone will know after this wedding."

Shane raised an eyebrow, going along with her teasing. "And this makes you happy, how?"

"Because," Mitchie explained, her voice sounding as though she was explaining this idea to a young child, "the girls will be disappointed. Years from now, they'll be sitting on their verandas talking about past loves, and they'll recall that handsome young soldier. They'll ask each other whatever became of him, and someone will respond, 'Oh he married Mitchie Torres.'" Mitchie ended her narrative, looking pleased with herself. "And they'll all wish that they'd gotten to you sooner."

Shane laughed, pulling Mitchie closer. "You, my dear, are too devious for your own good." He grinned and bent to kiss her, then pulled away, shocked.

"What?" Mitchie asked, confused.

Shane looked at her carefully and asked, "Your eyes are green."

Mitchie sat still for a moment, unable to comprehend the teasing. Then, she slapped his shoulder and snuggled into his lap. "That's my line," she rebuffed him. "You can't use it."

Shane didn't argue, but asked instead, "When's the wedding?"

Mitchie rolled her eyes and sat up. "Have you not been paying attention?"

Shane grinned wickedly. "No. I've been trying to tune everything out."

"Why?" Mitchie asked.

"Because I've been thinking about getting home safely to see my daughter," he responded. He added a wink and said, "And I've been thinking about my wedding night."

Mitchie rolled her eyes and then said, "You've already had one of those. I think another one might be too much for you to handle. Plus, if you can't get excited, or at least pretend to be excited about the wedding, I see no reason to continue on to the wedding night."

Shane clutched his throat in mock dismay and fell to his knees in front of Mitchie, hands clasped together in the traditional begging fashion. "Please don't say that," he begged. "I'll be the most excited groom you've ever seen!"

Mitchie laughed. "Oh get up!" she cried, laughing again as he refused to budge. "Very well. I'll hold you to that!"

Shane laughed and stood, sitting next to Mitchie once more. "What have I gotten myself into?" he asked aloud to no one in particular.

"In all seriousness," Mitchie said carefully, immediately bringing the teasing mood to a halt, "the wedding's next week. How long do we have to wait until we can go home?"

Shane realized that her anxiousness stemmed from missing their daughter and their family, so he promptly said, "I've spoken with one of the agents in the camp. He has the power to reassign me to a different camp. He's willing to "lose" the paperwork, so we can go back to the base as soon as that."

"When will that be?" Mitchie asked.

Shane rubbed his chin. "I could ask him if he'll refer me in the next couple of days."

"Okay," Mitchie said slowly. "How will you tell us though?"

Shane grinned and Mitchie saw that mischievous smirk reappear on his face. "I have a couple of ideas."

* * *

Two nights later, Mitchie was seated in the sitting room with her parents, stitching a tea towel for her hope chest, a chest that she had been filling with household items for the time when she married, when there was an insistent tapping at the front door.

Louisa scurried to answer the door, and Shane bounded in, waving his hat around. "It's happened!" he cried. "It's happened!"

Mitchie stared at him in shock, her needle halfway through the cloth and dangerously close to pricking her. She didn't even make a sound as he picked her up and whirled her around, still exclaiming that "it" had happened. Finally, she found her voice, and her blush. Her cheeks turned red and she pounded on his shoulders lightly. "Put me down!" she commanded. "Put me down and tell us what's happened."

Shane set Mitchie down, gathering his breath back, and turned to Mitchie's parents, who were seated in the exact same spot they had been in before Shane had made his sudden burst through the door. "Forgive me," he begged them, "for coming in like that, unannounced, but I was so excited that I fear I lost my head."

"What's happened?" Mitchie pressed.

"One of the commanders in my division has promoted me!" Shane exclaimed with glee.

"Oh, Shane, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Torres exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Your accomplishments in the army make me so proud."

Mitchie tried not to wince as her mother spoke those words. She sincerely wished that her mother's eyes could be opened to what was truly going on. She would've been proud of Mitchell as well as Shane. But of course, Mitchie said nothing on the subject. "That's wonderful!" she gushed. She smiled at her mother. "You'll have quite the handsome gentleman in your family coming to call, mother."

Shane, for the first time that night, sobered. "I'm afraid that such visits won't be very often, darling," he told Mitchie.

Mitchie played the confusion perfectly. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Shane shifted from one foot to the other. "I mean that my post has been moved out of state, Michelle." In front of her parents, Shane always called her Michelle. "We'll have to move away."

Mitchie's mouth dropped open. "W-what?" she stuttered. "But, we can't move," she objected. "Mother and father are-"

"Oh don't be so silly!" her mother chided. "If you must move, then you must. You can't stay around Virginia forever, Michelle. You've got to learn to live on your own."

Mitchie blushed at the chastisement, but said nothing. "Very well," she said softly. "When will we have to leave?"

"After the wedding," Shane told her, looking regretful. "I'm so sorry. I would've asked to stay longer, but this position wouldn't have been open if we had waited."

Mitchie shook her head. "It would've been foolish to let this chance slip by," she assured him softly, glancing back down at the tea towel that had been carelessly thrown on the couch. "I'll be ready," she promised him.

No one could see the smile on her face as she bent to retrieve her needlework. Oh, yes, she would be ready, ready and waiting. She could hardly wait to get home.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! :D Please review!**


	69. Jewelery

**This is Prompt No. 55-Jewelery **

"Mitchie, please hold still!" Louisa exclaimed, unable once again to insert the comb into Mitchie's hair due to the latter's squirming.

"Sorry," Mitchie mumbled again, trying to stand still.

Louisa succeeded in placing the pearl-encrusted comb into Mitchie's hair and stepped back to admire her work. She nodded with satisfaction, and a slight sense of pride. "You'll do," she said indifferently, but Mitchie knew that she was quite proud of her handiwork.

"Thank you," Mitchie said sincerely. She gazed into the vanity mirror and said, "Thanks to you, I look pretty for today."

Louisa snorted. "Pretty? Mitchie, you look gorgeous." She smiled and quickly added before Mitchie could rebut, "Now hurry up and put your shoes on. Your daddy's going to be up here any moment to get you."

Mitchie let the subject drop, not wanting to get into an argument on her wedding day. She sat down, arranging her white skirts around her, and began to slip on her shoes. They were frivolous, but gorgeous, and Shane had presented them to Mitchie secretly, telling her, "Please wear them, for me." Mitchie had rolled her eyes, but had consented.

"You know," Louisa said, breaking through Mitchie's train of thought, "I think I'm really going to miss you."

Mitchie glanced up at her friend and felt a slight tug on her heart. Louisa reminded her so much of Anna that it felt like she was leaving a piece of herself behind all over again. She bit her lip to keep from crying and said, "I'll miss you too."

"When will I see you again?" Louisa asked.

Mitchie felt her heart sink even lower. "I don't know," she told Louisa honestly. "It'll have to be when the war is over, and who knows when that'll be?"

"Hopefully soon," Louisa said.

Mitchie nodded. "Yes, hopefully soon, but if it isn't, then we'll see each other later." She stood and hugged Louisa. "When the war is over, try to stay as close by as you can. If everything turns out well for the Union, we'll come and find you."

"And if not?" Louisa asked, and Mitchie detected a slight amount of fear in her voice.

"If not," Mitchie promised, "Shane and I will try and "buy" you. Then, you'll be free."

Louisa smiled and nodded. There was a knock at the door and both young women knew that their time was up. This was the last time they would be together in a very long time. Louisa threw her arms around Mitchie, hugging her tightly, and Mitchie hugged her back. Louisa jumped away as the door opened, busying herself with straightening Mitchie's already straight hem.

Mitchie's father stood in the doorway, looking quite handsome in his suit. He smiled as he gazed at his daughter, far more grown up than he could even imagine, and said, "Shane is a lucky man."

Louisa giggled. "Yes, sir, he is." She smoothed Mitchie's skirt one last time and then nodded with satisfaction. "You're ready," she proclaimed.

Mitchie nodded to her, her eyes once more saying goodbye, and then she took her father's arm and let him lead her out of her room, down the stairs, and out onto the grassy lawn of the plantation. As the bride and her father came into view, the crowd stood and turned to face them.

Mitchie's smile widened as she took in the whole scene, set up for her and Shane. The sun shone on the gathering, making the grass seem greener and the carpet she was to walk down seem whiter. Shane, dressed in a stylish suit, stood at the end of the carpet, smiling at her with a look of such love that Mitchie knew he wasn't pretending. The guests, arrayed in their Sunday bests, seemed to sparkle against the sun, and even the minister, garbed in traditional black robes seemed rather cheerful. Nothing could dampen this day for her!

Mr. Torres guided her down the aisle, and in a movement as old as time, took her hand from his and placed it in Shane's. He kissed her cheek, and then was gone. Mitchie looked up at Shane through her veil and smiled widely.

"Dearly beloved," the minister began, and his voice carried throughout the area as he spoke of the love and commitment that the two young people in front of him were to share.

"I do," Mitchie said at the appropriate times, her voice ringing out with all the love she possessed for the man beside her.

"I do," Shane said clearly, his voice exemplifying the same love as Mitchie's.

Shane then slipped a thin, gold band onto Mitchie's finger and rubbed her hand with his thumb lightly. The band had been the only jewelry she would allow him to give her, the bare minimum for the ceremony. He had allowed that only because she had her wedding ring that he had given her before, back at the base.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the minister said, and he even seemed a little eager as he said, "you may now kiss the bride."

Shane raised Mitchie's veil, gently settling it over her head, then tipping her chin up so that he could kiss her softly, yet meaningfully. The crowd clapped enthusiastically and Mitchie smiled widely as she pulled away from the kiss. Shane took her hand in his and they turned to face the crowd for the first time as husband and wife.

"Shall we join our guests?" Mitchie asked, still smiling up at Shane.

He glanced down at her, her cheeks pink with excitement and her whole face shining with love, and felt the urge to kiss her again, which he barely restrained. "As you wish," he said instead, looping her arm through his and beginning the walk back up the aisle towards the refreshment tables that had been set out for after the wedding.

* * *

For the next three hours, the people of Virginia celebrated the Gray marriage with plenty of food, laughter, and dancing. People whirled around, a tangle of trousers and billowing skirts, and Shane and Mitchie were usually in the middle of the group. Mitchie also danced with her father, and Shane spun Mrs. Torres through the dance steps until she was giggling like a young schoolgirl.

Finally, the August air became too cold, and the guests waved the young couple, seated in a buggy, off. Mitchie sat in the front with Shane since there was no room in the back. They had piled in all of her belongings and were off to the small town on the opposite side of the plantation. They were going to send the buggy back once they got there and then they would head off on their honeymoon trip.

"That was lovely," Mitchie remarked, her voice betraying a slight amount of fatigue.

Shane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and nodded. "I agree," he said, and then added, "and I'm not pretending."

Mitchie smiled at him. "Who's meeting us in town?"

"Nate and Caitlyn," Shane told her.

"Are they bringing-" Mitchie began, but Shane cut her off.

"They're coming alone. They didn't want anyone to see you, just married, holding out your arms for a baby that's over half a year old."

Unfortunately, Shane's logic made sense, and Mitchie nodded, slumping back into the seat. "Okay," she said softly.

Shane glanced back at her and put his free arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. "I'm just as anxious to see my daughter as you are. We'll get there before you know it."

Mitchie nodded and snuggled closer. "I know," she told him. "I just miss her."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, and soon, the town came into view. Mitchie found herself sitting up in her seat, her eyes roving the town until she could find her family. Finally, she spotted the young couple standing next to two horses. "Shane, Shane, I see them!" Mitchie cried excitedly.

"Hush!" Shane ordered her and leaned close to explain, "We have to get someone to take the buggy back before we can go meet them. If your parents should ask, we need to be seen alone."

"Oh," Mitchie replied dully, her eyes still fixed on Caitlyn, who was struggling not to look at her sister-in-law.

Shane pulled the horse up in front of the small hotel and jumped down, lifting his arms up so that he could grab Mitchie's waist and pull her down. Together, they strolled into the hotel and Shane asked if there was anyone available to take the buggy back to the plantation.

"Why sure!" the man behind the counter said, and rug a little bell he had perched on the edge of the warped counter. A young boy scurried out, and Shane gave him directions to the plantation. He saluted and hurried out to unload Mitchie's belongings before he returned the buggy.

"Is there any place that we could store these trunks until we can come back and get them?" Shane asked the man. "We can't take them on our honeymoon."

The man glanced at the three trunks that his boy had brought in and offered, "I suppose you could keep them here. I'll put them behind the desk for you and you can come back and get them later."

Shane smiled and nodded, passing the man a few Confederate notes as "thanks" for his generous offer. The man was still leafing through the bills when the Grays left.

Seeing no one on the street once they headed outside, Shane nodded to Mitchie. "You can go now," he told her.

She took off running, grappling with the skirts that were slowing her down as she ran toward Caitlyn. "You're here! You're here!" she cried excitedly.

Caitlyn, with her own overflowing amount of excitement, met Mitchie halfway, hugging her tightly and exclaiming over and over how much she had missed her. Once they had calmed down, Caitlyn informed Mitchie, "Shania's missing you."

Mitchie remembered her daughter, who had been forgotten upon seeing familiar faces, and she turned to Shane who had joined the two women and was hugging his brother, and asked, "Can we go now?"

Shane nodded, smiling. "Whenever you're ready," he told her.

"I'm ready," Mitchie assured him.

Nate and Caitlyn mounted one horse and Shane and Mitchie mounted the other. Together, the two couples spurred their horses towards the base, towards Shania, and towards home. Mitchie let herself smile as she adjusted to the rocking motion of the horse. She was finally going home.

**A/N: We're finally getting somewhere! I always hate having to use filler chapters, no matter their importance! :P Hope you liked it! Please review. *wink wink* DrrmGrl!**


	70. Angel

**This is Prompt No. 26-Angel**

"Mitchie, would you please hold still?"

Mitchie rolled her eyes. People seemed to be asking that of her a lot. "Sorry," she mumbled, and then couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes again. She seemed to be saying that a lot as well. Once again, she knew that it was her fault for not staying still. She could feel the horse shifting beneath her each time she jiggled in anticipation.

Shane used the hand that wasn't holding the reins to rub her arm lightly. "I know you're excited," he said in her ear so that she could hear him, "but we're almost there, so just hold on."

And hold on she did. She began calculating each landmark and how far away from the base it was. She felt her heart rate speed up as they passed the old Confederate campsite and thunder through the woods. A low hanging branch cut her across the cheek, but Mitchie didn't care. She lifted one hand to wipe the blood away and then focused again on the barely perceptible trail the two horses were following.

It was only a matter of minutes before the old house appeared in Mitchie's vision. Had it ever looked so homey? Mitchie doubted it. Her squirming continued once again, but Shane didn't say anything. He was just as eager to get home as Mitchie was, probably more so since he had never seen the little girl that waited for him stories below the ground.

"You go on ahead," Caitlyn told Shane and Mitchie as the two couples dismounted. "She's in her crib in our room. Jason's been watching her."

Mitchie knew that the casual invitation was really more than that. Caitlyn was giving the family time to get acquainted. "Thanks, Caity," she whispered and then whirled toward the front entrance, Shane not far behind.

"Mitchie?" Caitlyn called.

Mitchie turned around, trying not to sound impatient. "Yes?"

Caitlyn smirked. "Told you that Shania'd never forget you."

Mitchie remembered their conversation before she had left, unsure as to whether or not she would come back, and she smiled and nodded. "You're the best, Caity," she told her friend.

"I know," Caitlyn replied with a laugh as Mitchie and Shane disappeared into the dilapidated house.

"How long do you think we should give them?" Nate asked as he leaned casually against the hitching post.

Caitlyn turned to him and smiled. "I'd say a few hours at least."

* * *

Mitchie and Shane were never quite sure after that day who ran faster down the halls of the base, weaving in and out of the people, to get to Nate and Caitlyn's apartments. They took a moment to compose themselves outside, not wanting to scare their daughter by bursting through the doors, and then, hand in hand, they entered the apartments.

As they stepped inside, Mitchie was hit with the familiarity of the place, the intense sense of "being" that she felt. It even smelled the same as she had remembered. Everything was placed in the exact same way as it had been when she had left, and Mitchie felt herself relax. She was home!

"You okay?" Shane asked, concerned, as he watched Mitchie stop in the middle of the apartment.

She turned, trying to keep back the tears, as she nodded and said softly, "We're home."

Shane gathered her close for a moment and nodded. "Yes," he whispered in her ear. "We're home, and we're safe."

Mitchie was the first one to pull away from the embrace. "Come," she said, holding out her hand to her husband. "There's someone you should meet."

Shane took her hand and let her lead him into Nate and Caitlyn's bedroom. It took only a moment to locate the crib, placed close to the fire so that the baby wouldn't get cold, but also far enough away that there was no chance of the cradle catching fire. The two parents crept over to the crib and found their daughter, swathed in warm fleece and bundled against the August chill, sleeping soundly.

"Oh!" Shane exclaimed softly as his eyes rested on his child for the first time. He stared at her, amazed and transfixed. He looked up at Mitchie. "Can I?" he asked.

Mitchie smiled and nodded eagerly. "She'll have plenty of time to sleep later," she informed him.

Ever so gently, Shane put his hands into the cradle and picked his sleeping daughter up. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and Mitchie sat next to him, and they watched as Shania's eyes opened. Her thick little lashes fluttered first, and then her chocolate brown eyes were revealed to her parents. She didn't cry, but instead glanced from one adult to the other. Though both parents knew that it was impossible for her to recognize them as her parents, they each entertained the notion as they watched her carefully.

Shania didn't squirm, she just lifted her tiny fists, waving one in each parent's direction as her little mouth opened into a toothless smile. A little cry issued from her lips, but was not repeated once Shane held her close.

"She's perfect," he whispered to Mitchie, glancing at her over Shania's little head.

Mitchie nodded. "She is," she agreed.

Shane glance roved over Shania's face and he said, "She looks so much like both of us."

The absolute wonder in his voice caused Mitchie to smile and she nodded in agreement again. "She does," was all she said as she glanced back down at the daughter she hadn't seen in five months.

Shane held Shania slightly closer, careful not to hurt her. "My little angel," he crooned to the baby. One arm circled around Mitchie, pulling her to his side as well. He kissed her forehead, and then her lips, whispering, "Both my angels here with me."

Mitchie happily snuggled closer. "Finally," was all she said.

**A/N: Wow! 70 chapters!!! (Just a little excited!) Thank you all so much for reviewing and nominating. Once again, you're amazing!**


	71. Birdhouse

**This is Prompt No. 50-Birdhouse**

"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" someone shouted, startling Mitchie and Shane out of a perfectly good sleep. Miraculously, Shania failed to wake up, though Mitchie momentarily wondered if she had gone deaf to miss this wake up call. The person responsible for the rude awakening proceeded to strike themselves mark after mark on Mitchie's black list as they shook her into a state of semi-wakefulness.

"Caitlyn," Mitchie growled, but the threatening tone she was aiming for was lost as she yawned halfway through the growl.

"Get up!" Caitlyn insisted, trying to shake Mitchie again.

Shane groaned and rolled over so that his body was pressed up against Mitchie's, allowing him to bury his face in her neck. "Mitchie's right," he said sleepily. "Go away, Caitlyn."

"No," Caitlyn responded stubbornly and then yanked the covers off the sleeping couple.

Mitchie immediately curled into a ball, trying to shut out the cold around her, or keep in all the warmth she could, or both. "Caitlyn," she growled again, and this time her sister-in-law's name came out just as menacing as she intended it to. "We're recovering from a mission. Go away."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You've been home for almost two months, Mitch. Plus, I have a perfectly good reason for coming to get you up."

Shane snorted, now slightly more than half awake. "It'd better be really good," he mumbled.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Caitlyn said, smirk on her face, "or have you forgotten your wife's _birthday_ already?"

Mitchie's eyes popped open in surprise. "Today's my birthday?" she asked, shocked.

Caitlyn nodded. "Yes," she said as though talking to a five-year-old. "If you don't get up, you'll waste the day away, and I know for a fact that Shane at least has something special for you."

Mitchie turned over to look at Shane, who was trying to rouse himself from his sleep-hazed state. "Really?" she asked.

He nodded and snuggled back into the crook of her neck. "Yup," he said sleepily. "We'll get up soon enough, Caity," he told his sister-in-law. "Wake us up at a decent hour, though," he ordered, knowing Caitlyn's love for getting up extremely early on special days.

Caitlyn tried not to laugh as she said, "Uh, Shane? It's ten in the morning."

Mitchie's eyes popped open. "What?" she cried, vaulting out of bed at a rate that made her slightly dizzy. She flew to the cradle by the fireplace and peered into it, exclaiming, "You must be famished, my little darling!"

Shania, however, simply waved her arms around and gave a little gurgle. Caitlyn shook her head as she watched Mitchie nurse and Shane climb sleepily out of bed. "How is it that you two have one of the best babies I've ever heard of? She's only cried a handful of times when you guys were gone, and I've heard her cry twice since you guys came back."

Mitchie shrugged as she rocked her daughter. "We're blessed," she said simply.

Caitlyn, without thinking, said, "I hope I'm that blessed."

Mitchie's head snapped up and a look of shock, and then excitement crossed her face. "What did you just say?" she asked.

Caitlyn colored. "Nothing," she said. "It's nothing."

"Oh it's something alright," Mitchie said, hoisting Shania up onto her hip and coming to stand in front of her sister-in-law. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Caitlyn blushed and then nodded. Immediately, Mitchie was hugging her as tightly as she could without hurting Shania. "Congratulations, Caity," Shane said, giving Caitlyn's arm a squeeze once Mitchie had let go.

"Thanks," Caitlyn said softly, embarrassed by the attention that was resting on her. "Now come on, or you'll really be late."

Mitchie rolled her eyes at the change of subject and then handed Shania to Shane so that she could slip into the other room to get dressed. Once attired in her favorite dress, Mitchie emerged and made a motion towards the door. "Shall we go?" she asked.

Caitlyn nodded and eagerly slipped out the door. Shane passed Mitchie and asked, knowing smirk on his face, "That discussion isn't over, is it?"

"Absolutely not," she replied with a smirk of her own.

No more was said about either the party or Caitlyn's good news, and the walk to the conference room was rather quiet until Mitchie pushed through the doors. "Surprise!!" Nate, Jason, and the general called out as she stepped into the room. "Happy birthday!"

Mitchie grinned widely. "Thank you!" she cried.

The family settled in for a day of celebration, each member taking turns holding Shania, who waved her little fists each time she changed loving hands. At one point in the day, Mitchie heard Caitlyn lean over to Nate and whisper, "They know," in his ear.

The way she said those two words made the knowledge sound like a bad thing, but Nate just looked at her curiously. "So?" he asked. "You didn't think you could hide it from them forever, did you?"

Caitlyn glared at him. "You are no help at all," she told him, and he didn't argue.

Jason was the first to clap his hands and announce, "Time for presents!"

Mitchie tried to protest, explaining that she didn't want anything, but they refused to listen as they placed the three gifts in front of her. She opened the one from the general first, tearing the paper off the box only to find a slip of paper nestled inside. When she took it out and read it silently, her eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

"I might not have explained myself properly," the general apologized. "I'm not very good with fashions and such. The note was supposed to explain that my gift to you is a new dress. Take Caitlyn with you some day and get yourself whatever kind of dress you'd like."

Mitchie smiled, finally understanding the note. "Thank you so much," she said sincerely. "That's very generous of you." The general shrugged, embarrassed now by the attention, and waved his hand to signal for Mitchie to move on to the next present.

This one, from Nate and Caitlyn, was carefully wrapped in many layers of rags. When Mitchie finally removed the last layer of rags, her eyes widened. There in front of her was the most delicate dagger she had ever seen. Silver hilt and inlayed with sapphires, her birthstone for September, the dagger glittered as Mitchie rotated it in the light of the lamps. "Thank you," she breathed. "It's gorgeous!"

Nate smiled and Caitlyn nodded, having recovered from her earlier disgruntlement. "We thought you'd like to take that along on any further missions. It looks a little better than those other daggers you've been carrying around."

Mitchie smiled and placed the dagger safely back in its layers of rags just as Jason said, "Mine next!"

Mitchie grinned at his excitement and reached for the last package. She unwrapped it slowly and pulled out an interesting contraption that looked like a miniature house. She twisted it around by the little rope loop attached to the roof, not exactly sure what it was. "Thank you?" she said, but her curiosity made the statement come out as more of a question.

Jason grinned. "It's a birdhouse, you know, for birds."

Realization dawned on Mitchie and she smiled broadly, asking Jason teasingly, "Because it's so beautiful, do I charge room and board?"

Jason laughed. "Only if you want to be paid in birdseed!"

Everyone laughed, and Mitchie examined the house once again. "Thank you very much," she said sincerely. "Did you make this on your own?"

Jason nodded. "Yes," he said, and then shot a teasing glare at Shane, who was happily rocking Shania. "Someone wouldn't help me build it, so I had to build it all by myself."

Mitchie tried to stifle her laughter. "Well you did a wonderful job," she told him honestly. She bit her lip as she realized something. "Where exactly do I put it?" she asked him, knowing that there were no birds down in the base.

Jason looked at Shane and smiled. "Oh I have a feeling you'll find _someplace_ to put it."

Shane stood up and said, "That would be my cue to steal my wife away so that she can receive her present from me." He smiled at his family and then said, "Thank you all so much for the wonderful day."

Nate nodded. "See you later," he told Mitchie. "We'll want to hear all about it."

Mitchie nodded, unsure as to what exactly Shane had planned, but she had a feeling that she was going to like it….

**A/N: There you go! For those of you that wanted Caitlyn and Nate to start a family, your wish is granted!! I hoped you liked this chapter, please review!**


	72. Home

**This is Prompt No. 46-Home**

"Not even a tiny hint?" Mitchie begged.

Shane rolled his eyes as he shook his head. This was about as bad as "Are we there yet?" "No," he said…again. They had been traveling for almost two hours on the underground buggy system, and Shane was looking forward to the end of the line.

"Can I hold Shania?" Mitchie asked, and Shane readily gave her the baby, hoping that her daughter would keep Mitchie interested until the end of the drive.

The buggy pulled up to the end of the line and Shane hopped out so that he could help Mitchie alight from the contraption. He noticed that her eyes were wide with curiosity and her cheeks were pink with excitement, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. He was now more confident than ever that his present to his young wife would be favorably received.

"Ready?" he asked Mitchie.

She nodded and began walking towards the steps leading up to the prop room in the theater, Shane following her with a smile on his face. They climbed the steps and stepped into the small room, immediately making their way to the front of the theater where Mitchie then turned to Shane and asked, "Now where?"

Shane stepped out in front of her and flashed her one of his most dazzling smiles, enjoying the element of surprise he held over her. "Now, we call for a buggy."

"Another one?" Mitchie asked, wrinkling her nose at the thought of having to sit in a buggy once again after the long ride she had just had.

Shane nodded. "Yes, but it's not far." He hailed a buggy and helped Mitchie inside, both of them being careful not to jostle Shania as they stepped inside. Shane gave the driver an address that Mitchie couldn't hear, and then he sat back next to her, opening his arms for his daughter in order to give Mitchie a rest.

Mitchie gladly handed her baby over, but without Shania's darling little face to study, Mitchie found her mind once again riveted on a long list of questions regarding the nature of Shane's gift. "Not even-"

"No!" Shane said, his voice tinged with comical exasperation. "We're almost there," he told her.

Wisely deciding not to push her husband any further, Mitchie settled for staring blankly out the window, watching the town of Washington D.C. go by. Impatience made her shift in her seat, though, and soon she was shifting enough for her actions to be classified as wriggling. She bit her lip so that she wouldn't ask anymore questions, but she let out a sigh by mistake.

Shane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, amused. She was never going to make it if he didn't say something to her. With a sigh of his own, he shifted Shania over so that he held her in one arm and then he wrapped his free arm around Mitchie's shoulders, pulling her close to him. "Only a couple of hints," he warned, his breath teasing her ear.

She looked up at him, surprised. "Really?" she asked, half expecting him to get annoyed again with her questions.

Shane nodded. "Really," he said. "But you can't ask anything too obvious, like 'What is it?'."

Mitchie gave him a mock pout. "Now that's no fun," she told him sullenly.

He laughed at her comical expression and said with a shrug, "Take it or leave it."

There was silence for a moment, and then Mitchie asked, "Is it big?"

Shane thought for a moment. "Not compared to others of its size."

Mitchie let out a slight huff at the vague answer, but then berated herself slightly. Vague answers were better than nothing. "What color is it?" she asked, "or is that too obvious?"

Shane shook his head. "No, that's fine. It's yellow."

Mitchie frowned, trying to think of something relatively small and yellow. Nothing immediately came to mind. Mitchie remembered Jason's birdhouse and asked, "Is it a boat?"

Shane snorted but replied, "Too obvious."

Mitchie glared up at her husband, who completely ignored her. He was not going to help her out, was he? "Fine," she said, but the question she was going to ask was interrupted by Shane placing Shania into her arms and placing a blindfold around her head.

"We're getting close," he explained. "I don't want you to see where we're going before we get there." Mitchie made a small sound of protest, but Shane cut her off by kissing her. In return, she nipped his bottom lip, making him pull away with a laugh. She hadn't bit him hard enough to even break the skin, but her message was clear; she wasn't happy with this arrangement.

They rode in the buggy for a few more minutes, and then, abruptly, the buggy stopped. "Here we are, sir!" the driver called.

"Thank you!" Shane called and took Shania once again from Mitchie's arms. "Not that you would," he prefaced, "but I wouldn't want you to drop her."

Mitchie started to protest, "I would never-" but then she stopped. She realized that Shane was right. Being unable to see made it more difficult to keep one's balance, and should she fall from the buggy, she just might drop her daughter, no matter her intentions. "Fine," she mumbled.

"Here, let me help you," Shane said, helping her step down onto the street.

"Thank you," she said softly, feeling her stubbornness dissipating. Shane squeezed her hand to show her that he understood, and then began to lead her forward.

Mitchie sniffed the air, relying on her sense of smell to tell her where she might be. There was no smell of salt or fish, so Mitchie knew that she was not anywhere near the ocean. The only smells drifting along in the air she inhaled was the scent of horse, dried leaves, and Shane. That helped her in absolutely no way.

Shane stopped after a few paces, and Mitchie heard the sound of the buggy pulling away, taking the scent of horse away as well. "Ready?" he asked her.

"Yes," Mitchie said softly.

Shane untied the blindfold and let it fall away from her face. "Happy birthday," he whispered as she gazed at her birthday present.

For the first time, Mitchie was glad that Shania wasn't in her arms. She might not have dropped her getting out of the buggy, but she most certainly would've dropped her out of shock upon seeing her gift. "Oh!" was all she could say.

In front of her was an exact, human-sized replica of Jason's birdhouse. It was a tiny little two-story house, smaller than many of the houses Mitchie was used to seeing, and she finally understood Shane's first answer. It was yellow in color, just like Shane's second answer had been, with white scalloped trim and a wraparound porch.

"Oh, Shane," Mitchie whispered, awed.

"Do you like it?" Shane asked, grin on his face.

Mitchie nodded. "But how in the world did you afford this?" she asked, noting that the house, and the two houses on either side of it, were quite nice. "It must've been expensive."

Shane shook his head. "It wasn't," he assured her. "Part of the benefits you get when you work for the UUS is the promise of a home to "retire" with when you finish working. President Lincoln has granted each of our team members any vacant house they'd like in Washington."

"It's wonderful!" Mitchie exclaimed excitedly. "Thank you Shane, it's the best present ever." She turned back to the home and sighed happily. A home of her own, given to her by the man she loved. What more could she want out of a birthday?

"Who lives in that house?" she asked Shane, pointing to the house on the right, a quaint little blue house just begging for a loving family.

Shane grinned. "Nate and Caitlyn," he told her. Mitchie gave a little cry of happiness and her smile widened.

She turned to the house on the left and asked, "And who lives in that house? Jason?"

Shane's smile grew even wider and he shook his head. "No, but he'll live close by. The people that live there are the second part of your surprise." He turned to the windows and waved his hand in a beckoning motion.

Whoever was inside must have been waiting, because almost immediately, the door open and a familiar pair of faces flew out. They stood on the steps for just a moment, waiting for Mitchie to recognize them. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers and she let out a little scream as she ran toward them.

"Mitchell! Anna!"

**A/N: Most of you won't be surprised at her present, but were you surprised at her second present? Let me know! Hope you liked it even though you guessed! :D**


	73. Cherry

**This is Prompt No. 66-Cherry **

"Come inside, come inside!" Anna exclaimed, excitedly bustling everyone into her house. She was clinging to Mitchie, and Mitchie was clinging just as tightly to her.

Shane and Mitchell followed them into the house, grinning as they watched the two women interact once again. They talked excitedly, their hands flying around to show the extent of their emotions, and their cheeks were as red as cherries from their excitement. When Anna had settled everyone into the little parlor, she brought out her own little bundle for Mitchie and Shane to see.

"This is Michelle Anne Torres," Anna said proudly, hoisting the little one onto her hip. "She's soon to be a year old."

Mitchie gaped at the little girl, named after her, with a wondering look on her face. "Oh, Anna," she murmured. "She's gorgeous." She looked in Shane's direction and said, "You've already met my little girl."

Anna and Mitchell both nodded. "There's going to be a lot of Michelles in this family," Mitchell remarked with a large grin.

"And every one of them deserves it," Anna told him tartly. She smiled at Mitchie and said, "Any little girl named after our Mitchie is fortunate indeed."

"I wouldn't say that," Mitchie told her, not wanting her sister-in-law to go too far with her praise.

"I would," Anna told her honestly. "You risked your life for us several times. You deserve all the praise we give you."

Mitchie nodded, and then grinned widely at Shane. "It _did_ have its perks," she said slowly, causing the other three adults to laugh.

Anna clapped her hands together in her excitement. "I can't believe you're going to live next to us in a little while!" she exclaimed. "Michelle and Shania are going to become best friends!"

Mitchell leaned over to Shane and muttered, "They're not going to have a choice in the matter." Shane snorted his agreement and nodded, trying valiantly not to laugh.

Anna and Mitchie both stuck their tongues out at Mitchell and Shane and the four burst out laughing once again. Mitchie knew that their giddiness was due to not having seen each other in over a year, and not due to the actual wittiness of the conversation. Still, the pleasant atmosphere was a nice diversion from the usual days Mitchie and Shane went through, so she flung herself into the conversation, which wasn't exactly difficult to do.

Too soon, though, Mitchie found herself covering up her life as a spy, skirting around certain questions that Anna and Mitchell asked her each time Shane gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "I'm sorry," she said, after another question came her way that she skipped around. "I can't answer that."

Shane, sitting next to her, took her hand in his, offering unspoken support which Mitchie took gratefully. "There's much about our lives that you two can't know," he told Anna and Mitchell calmly. "Like I told you before when I visited a while ago, it's as much for your safety as it is for ours."

Anna ducked her head. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "After all you've done for us, we should be able to give you the courtesy of privacy when you ask for it."

Mitchell nodded. "No more deep questions," he promised. "If something bothers you, we'll move on. Fair?"

Mitchie' heart swelled once more with love for her brother as she nodded. She turned to Shane and asked, "When our jobs are completed, can we tell them what we've been doing?"

Shane nodded. "When _everything_ is finished," he told her.

Mitchie nodded, understanding the silent warning that she wasn't allowed to tell them a moment earlier than that, no matter how much she wanted to. "I understand," she told her husband, letting him know that she understood the spoken, as well as the unspoken, parts of his answer.

Anna broke the slightly uncomfortable silence by asking, "More tea?"

Mitchie extended her cup with a smile. "Me please."

"Me too," Shane said when it was his turn. "Thank you."

All too soon, Shane regretfully stood and placed his teacup on the coffee table in front of him. "I'm sorry," he told Mitchie, "but we'd better get to heading back. We have a long trip ahead of us."

Mitchie nodded sadly, regretting having to leave these family members of hers that she had just found once again. Anna took her teacup, giving her a knowing look so that Mitchie understood that she wasn't the only one regretful of the short reunion, and pulled Mitchie into a tight hug. "Come back soon," she whispered in Mitchie's ear. "I've missed our talks."

Mitchie smiled. "Me too," she assured her sister-in-law. "Me too."

Mitchie hugged her brother fiercely, intent on not crying, and whispered, "I've missed you."

He hugged her back and nodded, keeping the tears at bay himself. "I've missed you too."

"I'll see you soon," Mitchie promised, backing away from the embrace.

"When?" Anna asked.

"Soon," Mitchie promised. "Soon" was a relative word that could mean any length of time. Mitchie wasn't sure just when she might get back to see them, so that was the easiest, and truest, promise she could make them.

Once the goodbyes were said, Mitchie, Shane, and Shania left the Torres household and passed by their own house on their way to a main street to find a buggy. "Who knows when we might see them again?" Mitchie asked rhetorically, not even realizing that she had spoken aloud.

"I hope it's soon," Shane said honestly. "They're nice people."

"They are," Mitchie agreed.

They walked in silence for a moment, and then they reached a main street. Shane hailed a buggy and Mitchie, cradling her daughter, stepped in. The ride to the theater was shorter than Mitchie had remembered, and she knew that it was the surprise factor that had dragged the minutes along. Shane thanked and paid the driver and then the family strode into the theater via the back way and slipped into the prop room and down the trap door.

Shania fell asleep on the long drive through the underground tunnels, and Mitchie leaned her head contentedly against Shane's shoulder. "Thank you for the day," she said sincerely. "It was the best birthday I've had in a long time."

Shane kissed her forehead in response. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he told her honestly.

When they reached the end of the line, the Gray family found Caitlyn and Nate there to meet them. "It was amazing!" Mitchie gushed. "The house looks exactly like Jason's birdhouse and it's just gorgeous!"

Caitlyn managed a small smile. "I'm glad to hear that," she said softly, taking Shania from Mitchie's arms. When Mitchie looked confused, she said, "You and Shane'd better go to the conference room."

"Why?" Mitchie asked curiously.

"The general has an assignment for you," she told them, looking directly at Mitchie.

**A/N: I hope this answered some of your questions about their retirement from the UUS! Hope you liked it, please review!!**


	74. Roundabout

**This is Prompt No. 30-Roundabout**

"No matter what happens, I'm here for you," Shane said softly as he gripped Mitchie's hand tightly in his own.

Mitchie smiled up at him hesitantly. "Thanks," she said. They had been standing outside the conference room doors for over five minutes, neither one of them wanting to give the slight push that would propel them into a room of uncertainty. "It must be dangerous," she remarked.

Shane shot a glance her way and asked, "Why would you think that?"

"Caitlyn looked upset," was the immediate response.

Shane winced. She'd noticed. "Maybe it won't be that bad," he said, falsely optimistic. "It could just be a shopping trip. You know how much Caitlyn _loves_ those."

Mitchie smiled slightly, but even the teasing voice of her husband was not enough to raise her spirits. "She would've been complaining then," she pointed out, and Shane knew that he was caught.

He pulled her tightly against him, kissing her so hard that her knees buckled and he had to support her. When he pulled away, Shane said in between breaths, "No…matter what…I'll…love you…forever."

Those simple words gave Mitchie some extra courage, and she smiled again. "Thank you," she said, and pushed open the doors.

They stepped into the conference room hand in hand. The general eyed them carefully and nodded to some of the chairs around the table. "Sit down, Mitchie and Shane," he said, his voice friendly, yet slightly edgy.

Mitchie and Shane did as they were told, choosing seats across from the general and right next to each other. They waited for the general to continue, but he didn't, so Mitchie asked, "Well?"

The edginess in her own voice surprised even her, and Mitchie blushed. However, the question seemed to bring the general out of whatever verbal rut he had found himself in, for he began to speak. "Ah yes," he started awkwardly and uncharacteristically. "Well, how would you like to take a trip?" he asked Mitchie.

"By myself?" Mitchie asked, trying to gain more knowledge of what was being expected of her.

The general nodded, and Mitchie felt Shane's grip on her hand tighten. "Yes."

"To where?" Mitchie asked.

The general shifted slightly in his seat. "To Europe," he answered vaguely.

Mitchie and Shane exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of this unusual behavior. "Europe's a big place," Shane finally said. "Could you be more specific?"

The general paused for a moment and then sat forward suddenly, changing the subject just as quickly. "Remember that time I told you about Queen Victoria?" he asked Shane.

Shane frowned. "No."

The general's smile dimmed, but he went on anyways. "Doesn't really matter," he mumbled. "It was about-"

Before he could get any further in his nervous storytelling, Mitchie interrupted him. "This is a very roundabout way of telling me that you want me to do something," she told him. "Would you please just give me that bad news all at one time instead of rationing it little by little?"

"The UUS has asked us to send one of our members to spy on Queen Victoria," he told her.

Mitchie's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?" she asked, unsure that she had heard him correctly.

"We need to send someone to spy on Queen Victoria," the general said again, morphing back into his normal, take-charge attitude now that his news was out. "We need to know if she'd be willing to align herself with the Union or not."

"An alliance?" Mitchie guessed.

The general nodded. "Right."

"She can't go!" Shane exclaimed. "That's far too dangerous. That's treason! Let me go."

The general shook his head. "I'm well aware of that, but only a woman can go. We must send her as a diplomat."

Mitchie's jaw went slack. "But that's never been done before!" she exclaimed.

"Technically, it has," the general said. "The women in history just weren't labeled for their duties. Plus, sending a woman would be much more favorable in Victoria's sight. She's quite tickled at the rumors we've circulated of Mitchie's arrival."

"Why can't someone else go?" Mitchie asked, "like Caitlyn?" Immediately, Mitchie realized how awful that question sounded and tried to rephrase it, but the general cut her off.

"I know what you meant," he assured her. "Caitlyn cannot go because she's, well, expecting a family. As you know, society outside the base demands that a woman expecting a child is hidden from view when her condition begins to show." Mitchie nodded. Unfortunately, that made sense. "Plus," the general went on, "Caitlyn is very good with her role playing and her weaponry, but she lacks the…diplomacy you possess."

Mitchie smiled, thinking of Caitlyn's friendly, forward manner. "She wouldn't be accepted at court," she finished for him.

"Precisely," the general said.

He seemed to be waiting for her to say the inevitable: that she would take the mission. She had no other choice! "I'll do it," she said, regret plain in her voice.

The general nodded. "I'm very sorry, Mitchie," he told her. "I wish the UUS could use a different division, but they want us."

Mitchie smiled weakly, trying to lighten the mood, and said, "That's because we're so good," she told him with a wink. "When do I leave?"

"The next ship bound for London is in two weeks," the general said. "I had no idea that my present would be used as such, but I would suggest finding yourself a dressmaker for a court dress or two."

Mitchie nodded, looking first at the stricken face of her husband and knowing that her face mirrored his, and then at the general, who looked saddened and distraught as well. Fighting back the gnawing feeling in her stomach and the emphatic, "No!" that was pounding through her mind, Mitchie said softly, "I'll be ready."

The hand that reached out to take the file from the general's hand shook only slightly.

**A/N: Okay, everyone, I know that you're reading, and simply not reviewing, so please review. It means a lot to me and lets me know what you think of my work. This chapter is dedicated to kiayame-san: Hope you have an amazing trip! Take lots of notebooks! :D Thanks also to mickeyhagg for the 400th review!!**


	75. Pick Up Lines

**This is Prompt No. 24-Pick Up Lines**

Four days later, Mitchie was walking through Washington D.C.'s downtown shops, looking for the dressmaker's shop that she had visited the day after she had been given her assignment. She wove through the crowds of people until she came to the little shop once again. Situated next to an iron workshop, the small shop with its little sign depicting a spool of blue thread looked like a dollhouse. With windows and sideboards that had recently been cleaned, the shop was the proverbial night and day to the iron shop.

As Mitchie stepped into the little establishment, a bell rung from above, having been agitated by the opening of the door. Almost immediately, an elderly woman scurried out front the back room, smiling as she saw Mitchie standing there. "Mrs. Gray!" she exclaimed cheerfully.

"Hello, Mrs. Carrel," Mitchie greeted her warmly.

"What brings you here today?" the kindly lady asked, pushing her thick glasses up further onto the bridge of her nose.

"I'm here to pick up the dresses you have for me," Mitchie explained to her.

"Oh yes!" Mrs. Carrel exclaimed, wagging her finger in the air. "I did promise you those by today, didn't I?"

"Yes," Mitchie said with a nod.

"Well, you'd best sit down here for a moment," Mrs. Carrel said, pointing to a comfy window seat. "I don't quite have the hem done on one of them."

Mitchie sat obediently, studying this woman that knew all about the UUS. Caitlyn came to this woman for all her dresses, as did many of the other women in the different branches of the UUS. Mrs. Carrel, rapidly stitching away, looked up when she felt Mitchie's eyes on her, and Mitchie felt compelled to speak.

"I was just wondering how you keep it all a secret," Mitchie told her honestly.

"It?" Mrs. Carrel asked, and then she realized that Mitchie was talking about the UUS. She smiled and shrugged. "Simple!" she replied with a laugh. "Who would entrust a little old lady with government secrets?" She shook her head. "I wouldn't," she added with another laugh.

"Do you ever wish you didn't know?" Mitchie asked.

Mrs. Carrel nodded. "Most of the time," she said honestly. "I always worry when one of my young ladies goes away on some mission." She sat back, abandoning her stitching for a moment. "I'm never at ease until I see them again." She pointed a finger, still clutching her needle, and added, "I'm worried about you as well."

"Me?" Mitchie asked.

Mrs. Carrel nodded. "Yes, you. So far from home with no escort." Mrs. Carrel shuddered. "And to just waltz into Queen Victoria's court as though you had every right to be there worries me as well."

Mitchie smiled indulgently and patted Mrs. Carrel's arm. "Thank you," she said, touched that this older woman took such care with her patrons, "but I'm sure I'll be fine." She smiled. "With your lovely gowns, how could I go wrong?"

Mrs. Carrel batted her hand away playfully, but Mitchie could see the pleasure creeping onto her face. "True," was all she said. She snipped a loose thread with her scissors and handed the gown to Mitchie. "There now," she said satisfactorily. "Go and try that on."

Without arguing, Mitchie gathered the dress into her arms and slipped into the back room to try it on. When she came back, old dress in hand, Mrs. Carrel clapped her hands and said, "My dear, that is your shade."

The dress, hued a shade very similar to the ball gown she had worn in Virginia, felt strange and very stiff. Mitchie ran her hands over the bodice and down the stiff skirts. "It's lovely," she told Mrs. Carrel, "it's just very different."

Mrs. Carrel nodded in understanding. "It's the fashion in England, though," she told her. She waved a dismissive hand towards the door. "Wear it home," she ordered. "Get used to the feel of it." She nodded toward the dress. "It's a parting gift from me." She turned and handed Mitchie two large boxes. "Those are the gowns you ordered. They're both evening gowns. The dress you're wearing is the dress you should arrive in, and then your normal clothes will do for the rest of your time there."

Mitchie stared in shock at Mrs. Carrel. "That's too generous a gift for me to accept," she argued.

Mrs. Carrel grinned and took Mitchie's old dress from her. "I have sufficient payment," she said with a wink.

"But that's my dress," Mitchie protested, confused.

Mrs. Carrel grinned again. "Then come back for it," she responded tartly.

Mitchie, understanding, smiled and headed towards the door, changing courses to peck Mrs. Carrel on the cheek. "I will," she promised before she raised her hand in goodbye and slipped out the door.

She made her way towards the theater, smiling as the sunlight filtered down on her. With such a beautiful day, one could almost forget why one was out in it. She tipped her head up towards the sun, letting it wash over her slightly pale complexion. Being stories underground most of the time did nothing to improve one's color. "Ah," she said with a sigh, reluctantly continuing on her way.

She slipped into the theater from the back, making sure that no one saw her, and then tiptoed down the hall to the prop room where she and her two packages disappeared down the trap door. Mitchie smiled as the buggy driver helped her with her packages, and then she was seated, ready for the two hour ride back to the base.

When the buggy finally arrived, the driver hopped down to assist Mitchie once again with her packages. "Thank you," she told him sincerely. He tipped his hat to her, and then she was off, her new dress swirling around her ankles as she walked, resisting the urge to swing her two dress boxes.

She passed Caitlyn in the hall and waved. Caitlyn seemed in a hurry to be somewhere, but she waved back at Mitchie to show that she liked her new dress. "I saw Shane a few minutes ago!" Caitlyn called out.

"Oh?"

Caitlyn nodded, dodging around two men carrying a large board of wood. "He'd just gotten back from the library."

"The library?" Mitchie asked, but Caitlyn was already gone. "Figures," Mitchie scoffed good-naturedly. "Tell me enough to confuse me, and then disappear on me."

She shook her head and then began again on her journey towards her apartments, weaving through the ever-present crowds. As she drew closer to her division's wing, the crowd began to dissipate, each person going their separate way. Soon, she was the only one in the corridor. Checking to make sure that there was no one behind her, Mitchie began to test out her new dress, twirling around and around, dancing with imaginary, dignitary partners.

She had just been asked for a dance from the prince of some far off country when a hand grabbed her and pulled her into the apartment. "May I cut in?" a voice whispered in her ear. Mitchie grinned as she stared up into a pair of twinkling brown eyes. "Because," the voice went on, "I have a new library card, and I am checking you out!"

**A/N: Hope you liked it! When I saw this prompt on the list, I just had to use that Joe pick up line. Please review! It makes my day!**


	76. Cheesy

**This is Prompt No. 25-Cheesy**

Mitchie slapped his chest, laughing. "That is so cheesy," she scolded him, but her eyes twinkled as she said it. "And why do you need a library card?"

"I know," Shane answered her, and kissed her languidly. "Because I want to check out books," he added, his voice sounding slightly huskier.

When Mitchie pulled back from the kiss, her eyes fluttered open and she said softly, "I must be in heaven because you're an angel."

Shane laughed and tapped her on the nose. "That is so cheesy," he said, mimicking her.

Mitchie stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. "I know," she whispered against his lips.

It was Shane who pulled away to rest his forehead against Mitchie's. "I like the dress," he said softly. "Is it for your trip?"

Mitchie nodded. "It was Mrs. Carrel's parting gift for me. She snatched my other dress and told me to come home after the mission for it."

"Smart woman," Shane remarked.

"Yes," Mitchie said softly. "She is." She held up the packages that she had dropped to the floor. "These are actually the two dresses I ordered."

Without a word, Shane pulled Mitchie and her packages into their apartments and over to the bed. He sat down, scooting over to the very edge of the bed, and she pulled the two carefully-packed dresses out of their boxes. With care, she laid them out so that he could see them. Several minutes passed before he nodded. "They're beautiful," he said quietly.

Mitchie nodded in agreement. She glanced over at Shane and asked, "Are you still worried about me?"

Shane gave her a look that plainly said, "Don't be silly!" He answered, "Of course. I'll always be worried about you whenever you're away from me."

Mitchie was touched and she smiled, feeling a large amount of love well up inside of her heart for this man who loved her so unconditionally. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Make no mistake," Shane warned, sticking his finger in Mitchie's face teasingly. "You get yourself killed and I'll hate you forever."

Mitchie laughed. So much for the unconditional love. "Deal," she said. "I come back or you hate me forever."

Shane stuck out his hand. "Shake on it," he demanded with a growl. "I want it to be completely binding."

Mitchie rolled her eyes and shook his hand, squeezing harder than necessary. "Would you like me to sign it in blood as well?" she teased.

Shane shrugged. "Couldn't hurt," he said nonchalantly. With a movement that was far too quick for Mitchie to see, he launched himself at her, knocking her back onto the bed. In another second, the dagger that she always wore strapped to her thigh was at her throat. Shane wore a huge, satisfied smirk on his face as he took in her breathless expression of open-mouthed shock. He bent over her and whispered in her ear, "Should I collect your signature now or later?"

"Later," Mitchie whispered, and the knife disappeared from her throat as quickly as it had come. "How come I was never taught that trick?" she asked dazedly.

Shane laughed. "It's not something you're taught. It's something you learn." He grinned down at her. "It also helps to know where your adversary keeps her knife stashed."

Mitchie stuck out her tongue and pushed him away, drawing his attention to the fact that he was squishing her beautiful dresses. "Get off," she said, as way of ending her scolding.

Shane laughed again and slid off the bed, pulling her along with him. The dresses, though slightly wrinkled, were no worse for wear. "See," he said proudly. "Not even a smudge."

Mitchie smiled and hugged him, resting her head on his chest. "I love you," she whispered fervently. "I love you so much."

Shane kissed the top of her head in return. "I love you too," he whispered, his arms tightening around her small body. There was silence for a moment and then Shane chuckled. "If I could arrange the alphabet, I would put U and I together."

Mitchie laughed at the pick up line, but she just snuggled closer. "Me too," she whispered. "Me too."

**A/N: Short, I know, but hopefully it was short and sweet. Please review! I'm working on the next chapter right now! :D Shoutout goes out to crazyforjoejonas, who is reviewing (slowly) each and every one of these chapters, even though she loathes reviewing. Thanks a million, Christina!**


	77. Polka Dots

**This is Prompt No. 52-Polka Dots**

The night before she was scheduled to leave, Mitchie found herself unable to sleep. She pretended to sleep, knowing that Shane wouldn't sleep unless she did, and then, when she heard his breathing even out, she slipped out from under the covers and made her way to the other room where Shania slept, swathed in a polka dot blanket Caitlyn had presented to her. She debated for a moment on whether or not to disturb her little girl's rest, but then decided that Shania could catch up on it while she was gone.

"Come here, my darling," she whispered as she picked the baby up. Shania opened her eyes and waved her tiny fists, letting out a little cry that was immediately hushed when her mother held her close and began rocking her.

As Mitchie rocked her daughter, she glanced down at her tiny face, soon lulled once again into sleeping, hypnotized by the gentle rhythm of the rocker and the steady beat of her mother's heart. In that moment, Mitchie felt such a strong surge of hurt, of homesickness, and guilt for leaving her child and her husband. She bit her lip as tears welled up in her eyes, forcing her stomach not to heave with sobs for fear that the motion would wake her daughter.

"Why me?" she whispered to Shania, stroking the blanket that framed her face and accentuated the darkness of her hair. The vision of a sweet baby girl and her polka dots would forever be etched in Mitchie's mind after tonight. "Why did it have to be this division?"

The crackling fire snapped, but had no answer for her as Mitchie continued to rock her daughter. Its bright flames cast shadows over the walls, and Mitchie shivered despite the pleasant temperature in the room. The shadows, elongating as the fire began to die down, reminded her of the fears she found mounting inside her heart. "What-ifs" crowded her mind, and a dozen scenarios threatened to make her dizzy.

"What if the queen doesn't like me?" Mitchie asked, talking to no one in particular. No answer came to her, not even from her own heart. Then, from the murky depths of uneasiness, a small, glimmering answer appeared and Mitchie asked herself aloud, "Well, how many people does the queen actually _like_." She smiled and answered herself. "Not many."

"_What if something happens?"_ her mind whispered.

"I'll deal with it," Mitchie answered aloud, trying to calm herself.

"_What if you can't handle it?"_

"I'll figure out a way," she hissed at the fire as it snapped again, sparks popping from the wood.

"_What if they find out you're a spy?"_

Mitchie winced. "I-" she began, but couldn't finish her sentence.

"_You know that you'll be put in prison, and perhaps even executed,"_ her mind whispered, answering when Mitchie was afraid to.

"I know," she said impatiently, as though she were actually talking to someone else instead of thinking aloud.

"_What if you cannot_ _learn the correct information?"_

Mitchie unconsciously began to rock faster and her heart rate sped up. "Then I'll try to find out a different way," she responded.

"_How?"_

"I don't know!" she said impatiently, and too loudly. Shania awoke, and Mitchie spent the next few minutes devoting her time to her daughter. With effort, she pushed aside all the questions that were haunting her and just focused on the little bundle in her arms.

"How I wish I could take you with me," Mitchie said softly to Shania, tracing the soft little lines of her daughter's face. "Or better yet, just not go at all." She sighed and shifted in her seat. "Life was just starting to settle down, and now it's being stirred up all over again."

"No!" The shout came from the bedroom, and Mitchie's head snapped up at the sound. She winced as it was repeated again, and held Shania closer to her chest. Another effect war had on a person was the dreams that haunted you for years after. Many nights, either Shane or Mitchie would wake up shrieking from some horrid, overly clear battle image from their time spent on the battlefield.

Mitchie knew that Shane would probably come out into the living room, so she stayed where she was, grateful when all noise in the bedroom had stopped. Shane was awake. "Stupid war," she muttered to the fire. "Stupid people who started the war." She closed her eyes for a moment and asked Shania, "Why do people have to fight? Why can't they just discus these kinds of things over a cup of tea or something?" Or course, she knew that the reason was that one or both parties had not wanted to discus matters rationally.

There was a noise, and a sleepy, haggard-looking Shane appeared from the bedroom. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair before saying sleepily, "Hey."

Mitchie ceased her rocking and smiled sadly. "Hey," she said. "Are you okay?"

Shane nodded. "Fine," he told her.

Mitchie knew that he was lying by the strained look he still wore on his face. "Another nightmare?" she asked, hoping that asking general questions would bring about an explanation.

Shane nodded and came to stand closer to the fire, but still further away than Mitchie would have liked. "Yes," he said evasively, not offering any other explanation.

Mitchie glanced up at him in concern. "Who was this one about?"

Shane's hands clenched into fists. "You," he said softly.

"Because of tomorrow," Mitchie guessed, and by Shane's nod, she knew she was correct. "How did I die?" She knew that it seemed to be a strange question, but from her personal experiences, explaining the dream out loud helped to shake off the vividness of the nightmare.

Shane glanced sullenly at her and said, "You didn't."

Mitchie frowned, confused. War dreams always consisted of someone dying, usually brutally. "I don't understand," she told him honestly.

Shane ran his hand through his hair again, but this time, he was agitated. "It wasn't a war dream," he told her softly. "I dreamed about you in Queen Victoria's court."

He paused, so Mitchie helped him along. "And?" she prompted.

"And you fit in so well that you decided to stay there and marry some rich prince of some land," he said, his scowl proof that the dream had been almost as bad as a war dream. "You left me for only a little while and found that you didn't love me as much as you thought you had."

Mitchie's jaw fell open. "Is that what's worrying you?" she asked. "Fear that I will stop loving you? Fear that I'll fall in love while I'm away?"

Shane nodded stiffly. "Yes," he whispered. "I know it's silly, but-"

Mitchie stood and strode to Shania's cradle to lower the baby into it. "Come," she said when she turned around, holding out her hand. With slight hesitancy, Shane took the hand. Mitchie led him over to the fire and motioned for him to sit down. He seated himself on the floor next to the hearth, and Mitchie joined him, sitting so that their knees touched.

"It's time you and I had a little talk," she told him seriously.

**A/N: Uh oh! :D Hope you liked it. Please, please review.**


	78. Heart

**This is Prompt No. 48-Heart**

"I feel kind of silly telling you this," Mitchie prefaced, glancing down at their touching knees, "but if you're having dreams like that, then I think it's a story you should hear."

"There's nothing that you can't tell me," Shane told her earnestly. "I promise not to laugh."

Mitchie looked up at her young husband's face. No, he looked far from laughing. He looked pained and fearful, anything but humorous. "Very well," she said. "Are you ready?"

Shane nodded. "Yes."

Mitchie nodded and paused for only a moment, trying to determine where she should begin. "My father has always loved me more than my mother," she started. "He loved me because I was tomboyish and loved to play and do everything that Mitchell did. It was fine when I was younger, but as I grew, my father realized that he needed to do something about my 'finer aspects.'" Mitchie's face showed exactly what she thought of those "finer aspects."

"He sent me to my friend's house in Europe. You met her at the ball. Tess Tyler," Mitchie clarified, hoping that Shane would remember, thus making her story easier to tell.

Shane was silent for a moment, trying to remember. "Oh yes," he said after a while. "The one that interrupted our kiss on the balcony."

Mitchie blushed, remembering that night and that particular moment. "Yes," she told him. "Tess is all about balls and parties and being seen. Her family's very, very wealthy. I'm not really sure how we became friends, but we did. Distant friends, though, in more ways than one." Mitchie shrugged. "I suppose the ocean helped to separate us after she moved, but either way, she was glad to have a traveling companion for her trip that she was going on. That's how we came to be in Paris."

"How did you get invited to that party, though?" Shane asked, and Mitchie could see that the vividness of his dream was starting to dissipate.

Mitchie rolled her eyes. "Tess wrote a note to whoever was in charge asking if there were going to be any balls that we might be able to attend while we were there. She got an almost immediate reply about the masquerade, and it was instantly settled in her mind that we should go."

Shane raised an eyebrow. "You two were invited just like that?" he asked in disbelief.

Mitchie nodded. "Like I said, Tess and her family have a lot of money. It's a ticket into some places. Either way, I almost didn't go. I didn't have a costume, and it was too late to get one. I had to wear an old dress that I could barely get on, much less breath in, but somehow I managed to get into it."

"_You_ had trouble getting into a dress?" Shane asked in disbelief, eyeing Mitchie's slender figure up and down.

Mitchie nodded, grinning. "First time in my life that I've ever had that problem, but yes, it's true. When we got to the ballroom, Tess could barely wait to get to those winding stairs so that she could walk down those steps and be noticed. I would've happily come in some side entrance, but that's not the way Tess does things." Mitchie shrugged.

"I remember that," Shane said softly. "You looked so beautiful."

Mitchie ducked her head in acknowledgement and went on. "I was concentrating on making sure that I didn't fall when I had an urge to look up. When I did look at the crowd, most of them were looking at Tess, but then I looked around and saw you." The sentence trailed off slightly at the end, and Mitchie's eyes took on a faraway look.

"You were standing in the corner," she said softly, "and I think you were the only one looking at me."

"Idiots," Shane muttered. "They missed out."

"Your eyes were what drew me to you in the first place," Mitchie went on. "Even from that far away, your eyes were so beautiful that I couldn't look away." She looked up at him and smiled, patting his right knee. "I was watching you the whole night," she said.

"I know," Shane told her. "I was watching you too."

"I never liked dancing," Mitchie explained, continuing on with her story. "I've always felt awkward and clumsy, even with Mitchell. He'd tried to teach me hundreds of times, but I could never find a rhythm. Dancing with my father was terrible, but dancing with anyone else was brutal. I was always so conscious of trying not to step on someone's toes that I forgot the steps." Mitchie shivered. "Then having to look at someone that close to me always felt too intimate."

"I could tell," Shane told her.

"You could?" Mitchie asked.

Shane nodded. "You looked like you wanted to die when that Frenchman came and asked you to dance."

Mitchie winced. "Yes," she said slowly, "I was about ready to kill Tess for volunteering me like that. Then he pulled me into the study, and I was sure that he was going to succeed when you came in."

"I could've killed him," Shane said through gritted teeth.

"But you didn't," Mitchie pointed out. "You fought him, yes, but you acted like a true gentleman, and that was why I trusted you. When you asked me to dance, I felt that I owed it to you, but then you held me, and you danced with me, and I fell in love with you and dancing."

Shane nodded. "I thought you'd say no," he told her honestly. "I knew how much you disliked dancing, but all I could think of at that moment was being close to you."

"I'm glad you asked me to," Mitchie told him sincerely. "And then, you asked me to walk with you, giving me the option to refuse to be alone with you, and it made me love you even more." She reached out and lovingly tucked a stray strand of hair behind Shane's ear. "And then you took your mask off and almost kissed me," she went on, sighing at the memory.

"And Tess had to ruin the moment," Shane said bitterly.

Mitchie laughed. "Yes, she did, but she apologized profusely on the way home for it. But that night, all I could think of and dream of was you." She pulled one of Shane's hands away from his lap and held it to her heart so that he could feel her heartbeat. "For three months, I thought about you, and fell more and more in love with you." She smiled and said softly, "So you see, from the first moment I met you, you've had my heart." She gave the hand she was holding a slight squeeze. "A few days at court can't take that love away. I will _always_ be yours."

Shane smiled, finally understanding where this story had been heading. His hand lifted from her heart to stroke her cheek lovingly, memorizing her features so that he would remember them when she wasn't at the base.

"And I will always be yours," he promised her. "Forever."

**A/N: Aw! *says with stubborness* I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry! Either way, I hope you all liked it, and thanks to everyone who reviewed for the last chapter. It means so much to me! Thank you!!**


	79. Beauty

**This is Prompt No. 16-Beauty**

Three and a half weeks later, Mitchie's new shoes, the ones she had worn for her second wedding in Virginia, were touching European soil for the first time in over a year. As she glanced up at the sky, cloudy and dotted with seagulls, Mitchie felt that all-too-familiar pang stab at her heart and work its way down to her stomach. She had thought that the grief she had felt when leaving her family would dissipate, but it had become more and more painful as the days had ticked by. Watching miles and miles of Atlantic Ocean disappear under the prow of the ship had left Mitchie with plenty of time to think.

"Watch it, Miss!" someone called out, and Mitchie stepped out of a sailor's way just in time.

"Forgive me," she apologized, startled that she had been so involved in her thoughts that she had forgotten where she was walking.

A well-dressed man appeared at her elbow, making her jump again. He raised his white-gloved hands to show that he meant no harm. "Are you Madame Gray?" he asked her politely.

Mitchie placed one hand over her pounding heart. "Yes," she told the man. "Please forgive me. I am not quite myself at the moment."

The man, who appeared to be a footman, smiled indulgently and nodded. "And no doubt tired from your long journey," he added as he led her towards the carriage. "This way please."

Mitchie allowed herself to be led through the busy port to the waiting carriage, smiling gratefully as the footman helped her into the carriage. "Where are we going?" she asked, wondering if they would need to stop at an inn for the night before reaching the palace.

"We're heading to Queen Victoria's court where she will personally greet you," the footman told her, his voice indicating that the very fact that the Queen was personally willing to meet with her was an honor in itself.

"Oh," Mitchie said, wincing as the word came out slightly flat and sounding unimpressed.

The footman said nothing and left to retrieve Mitchie's bags from the harbor master. Mitchie knew that she had a while to herself, for the general had told her that members of the Queen's court would go through her bags, looking for any weapon against Her Majesty. Mitchie's hand unconsciously slid down her leg to touch the hilt of the dagger she wore there. She felt the silver hilt and blade, warmed from being placed next to her skin, and felt a sense of safety and confidence. She could protect herself, if need be.

A thud above her signaled that the perusing had been completed and her baggage loaded onto the carriage. The footman appeared again and opened the door to the carriage to say, "All is ready, madam. We shall be going now."

Mitchie tipped her head slightly and smiled. "Thank you," she said.

The coachman nodded and slipped away. Soon, the carriage lurched forward and the journey began. Mitchie watched for a while as the streets of London flew past her, but then she turned away from the window, drawing the curtains and leaning her head back against the plush seat. She knew her mission inside and out, but she couldn't help going over and over the procedures "one last time."

She was still going through her list mentally when the carriage halted and she heard footsteps on gravel. The door opened and the footman gave her an encouraging smile as he held out his hand for her to take. She smiled back and held onto his hand as she stepped down from the carriage only to find a whole entourage waiting to greet her on the front steps.

"This way, madam," the footman said and led her over to the little group of people.

One woman, dressed more formally than the others, stepped down and curtsied. "Welcome, Madam Gray, to Her Majesty's court. I am Maria Budovie. I will be escorting you during your time here." She smiled shyly and explained, "The court can be a confusing place."

Mitchie tipped her head. "Thank you very much," she said with a smile of her own. She looked up at the huge, grand buildings that loomed in front of her and said, "I have a feeling that I'm going to need your help."

Maria smiled and some of the other servants smiled as well. She waved her hand to include all of the servants standing in front of her. "These people are here to serve you during you stay," she informed Mitchie. "These four are your ladies in waiting," she pointed to the four young women standing on the outside of the group in a cluster. "They will be the ones that serve you the most, but the rest are here as well should you ever need them."

"Thank you," Mitchie said softly, embarrassed by the attention she was receiving.

"Come with me, please," Maria said, and the servants parted like the Red Sea to allow Mitchie to pass through. "I will show you the way to the hall. Queen Victoria is waiting for you."

Mitchie couldn't help but feel slightly nervous that the Queen of England was waiting for her. She gulped and obediently followed Maria as she led the way into the castle. "Okay," she said quietly.

As soon as she stepped into the interior of the house, Mitchie was struck with its beauty. There was not a corner in the palace where something expensive had not been placed, not a windowsill left without the garnish of French lace. The beauty captivated, yet overwhelmed Mitchie. It was very easy to understand that not everything in the room had been placed there because it fit, or added to the charm of the room, but because it overwhelmed the visitor and sent the very clear message that the monarchs that resided there were in charge, and very powerful.

She could tell that Maria was waiting for her assessment of the room, so Mitchie tore her eyes away from a particular gold vase and said, "It's very beautiful."

Maria nodded. "So it is. Queen Victoria has the utmost of taste."

She began walking again, with Mitchie following, and all Mitchie could think of at that moment was, _"I wish I was back at home, however 'unfashionable' it might be."_ She was lead through two other rooms before Maria said, "Through those doors is Her Majesty's court."

Mitchie nodded, and the guards in front of the doors moved aside and pulled the heavy obstructions out of the way. Maria was the first to enter, whispering to a deep-chested man standing just inside the room.

"HER LADISHIP, MICHELLE GRAY, DIPLOMAT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!" the man bellowed. Mitchie felt her whole face flame as all eyes turned on her, thanks to the loudmouth at the door.

Maria took an almost imperceptible step backwards and whispered, "Don't look at anyone. Follow right after me and curtsy when I do."

She began walking, so Mitchie had no choice but to follow her. She was never sure afterwards how she made her way through all those people without looking at anyone, or tripping, but she managed, and she even curtsied when Maria curtsied. When she arose from her proper curtsy, taught to her by Caitlyn of all people, a murmur swept through the crowd of courtiers.

"Silence!" a voice commanded, and Mitchie allowed her eyes to slid up to focus on the face of the woman in front of her.

Queen Victoria, arrayed in a gown of dark blue silk, sat before her, bejeweled with diamonds of all shapes and sizes. Her face was round, like her body, her mouth drawn in a slightly puckered line, but her eyes were what made Mitchie quite uneasy. They seemed to probe, peering through Mitchie's body straight to her heart and judging her intentions. Mitchie made a mental note to herself that she would have to be very careful what she said.

Mitchie had expected an almost immediate questioning as to why she was here as America's diplomat, but once again, Queen Victoria surprised her. "What do you think of my castle?" she asked.

Mitchie blinked. She hastily tried to remember back to the rooms Maria had showed her. When she tried, she remembered the extravagant use of gold, silver, and other metals. She remembered the ivory and the lace. She remembered the vase, and wanting to go home, back to her own home that had seemed much more tasteful than this palace, even though it was stories under the ground and not nearly as expensive.

"I found what rooms I saw before I arrived in here to be very lovely," Mitchie told her.

Queen Victoria stared at her and then asked, "Do you not find them most beautiful?" she asked.

Mitchie heard murmurings behind her. She knew to most that Queen Victoria's question seemed to be repeating itself, but she recognized it for what it was: a test. She saw the ghost of a smile threatening to take that slight pucker away, and realized that she must think quickly.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Your Majesty," Mitchie told her after a moment's pause. "I am not the right one to ask," she went on, "for we have nothing as grand and extravagant as this in America to compare it to."

Queen Victoria looked amused, disappointed, and smug all at the same time. "Very good," she said, her smugness taking precedence.

Mitchie bowed her head respectfully and lifted it again, chancing to look at the rest of the people seated before her. There were plenty of people standing around Queen Victoria, all watching her intently, but none sitting. Queen Victoria was the only one seated on a throne, yet there was one throne next to her that was empty. A black silk cloth was draped over the back of the throne, but Mitchie dared not ask what it was.

"I'm sure you are tired," Queen Victoria said, bringing Mitchie's thoughts back into focus. "We shall speak another time when you are feeling more rested." She lifted a handkerchief to her nose and said, "Maria will show you to your room now."

Maria curtsied, and Mitchie curtsied as well, and they both left the court behind. "Why is there an extra throne?" Mitchie asked curiously as soon as the court doors closed behind them. No one at the base had ever mentioned that Queen Victoria was married.

"Queen Victoria's husband, Albert, died last December," Maria explained.

"Oh," Mitchie said softly. "Thus the black cloth over the chair?"

Maria nodded. "Right," she said as she turned yet another corner. "Queen Victoria is still in mourning for him, though she no longer wears black. She's now wearing dark colors."

Mitchie nodded and continued walking next to Maria silently for a while before asking, "How long will I have to wait before she speaks with me?"

Maria shrugged. "Who really knows? Her Majesty speaks with people when she chooses." She stopped in front of a door and pointed to it. "This is your room. I'll come for you when it is dinnertime." She curtsied slightly and then turned away, only to turn back again. "If I may," she said slowly, "I would get used to living at court. It may be quite a long time before Her Majesty decides to talk to you."

Mitchie nodded, and then Maria was gone. "Great," she said softly as she pushed open the door to her room. An indefinite time away from home, a mission of relative danger, and a queen that ignored you until she decided she was ready to acknowledge your presence. What could be more fun?

**A/N: Yes, that last sentence was indeed sarcasm! Hope you liked it, please review! It's really important to me! :D **


	80. Wisdom

**This is Prompt No. 61-Wisdom**

That night, Maria came to collect Mitchie for dinner. She glanced up and down at Mitchie's new evening down, a fashionable ivory gown with touches of silver thread, and nodded. "You look presentable," she said.

Mitchie, astonished, raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" she asked.

Maria shrugged and said, "Most people that come to court are from different countries and we have to…help them with their wardrobe choices."

"Why?" Mitchie managed to choke out.

Maria raised her eyebrows and said with a slight laugh, "Just because Her Majesty ignores you doesn't mean she doesn't notice you. You have to keep up appearances," Maria teased, and then remembered her place, which was not giving words of wisdom, and ducked her head again. "Either way, you look very nice. Are you ready?"

Mitchie realized that she couldn't treat Maria as a friend. If she did, it might damage her cover, so she simply nodded and said, "Yes, I'm ready."

Maria nodded and led the way through the many twists and turns of the castle to reach the dining hall. When she and Maria entered the hall, the conversation around the table halted. Every eye once again turned to Mitchie, and she involuntarily took a step back against their stares.

"Words of wisdom," whispered Maria. "Smile and act pleasant. Use any and all charms you can." She began to walk, so Mitchie followed her, making eye contact with as many people as she could as the chairs began to move past her. She smiled and some people even weakly smiled back.

The middle-aged earl next to the empty chair Maria seemed to be aiming for jumped up awkwardly and pulled the chair out from under the table. "Thank you very much," Mitchie said, sweeping her gown underneath her so that she could sit down. The nervous man pushed a little too hard on the chair, banging it against Mitchie's knees and forcing her to sit down harder than expected, but Mitchie waved off his hurried inquiries as to whether or not she was alright.

She was still assuring him that she was alright when the doors she had come through a few minutes ago opened again and everyone stood up. Mitchie was the last to stand, but she was close to the end of the table, so no one seemed to notice. She leaned over slightly to see who was entering, and immediately pulled herself back up to her proper height.

Queen Victoria, her entourage around her, entered slowly, nodding to each person as she passed them. Her eyes swept over the courtiers, focusing closely on the women, and Mitchie realized that the queen was weighing and comparing their outfits to hers. She tugged at the skirt of her dress, hoping that the queen would find some flaw in her outfit. To bring about the jealousy of a monarch never turned out well for the wearers.

Queen Victoria had made her way over to Mitchie faster than Mitchie wanted, and her eyes seemed to rake over the beautiful gown. Mitchie felt like shrinking from her stare, but she surprised herself by holding her head up and straightening her spine. "Your Majesty," she said tritely as she curtsied sweetly, dipping her head down so that the queen had a generous view of the pearl encrusted barrette that Shane had given her as a parting gift. Due to the many missions that the Grey family went on, they were not at all wanting for money.

"Madam Gray," Queen Victoria replied stiffly as she passed by and moved to sit in the seat two chairs down from Mitchie.

Mitchie grinned and sat back down in her seat, waving away the earl's help. She would already have some bruises. She didn't need more! "Right," she whispered to herself as she waited for the first course to be brought out from the kitchen.

Dinner was a slightly tense affair. Mitchie constantly felt the queen's eyes on her, scrutinizing her every move. The earl next to her, compelled by social rules to speak with her, could barely get a sentence out for each course. Mitchie ignored it, realizing that he was shy, and focused instead on her memories. She started with memories from her childhood, wanting to save her strongest memories for times when she was desperately lonely.

It was a great relief to Mitchie when Queen Victoria left the table, signaling to the others in the room that they were free to leave and to do as they pleased for the rest of the night unless they were a part of her cabinet. Mitchie left the table as quickly as she could and was joined by Maria before she reached the door.

"Did you enjoy your dinner?" Maria asked, but Mitchie noticed the stifled curiosity in her voice and realized that Maria was reiterating all of Mitchie's answers back to someone, probably the queen herself.

The betrayal stung for a moment, but then Mitchie reminded herself that she really hadn't expected much else. "It was very pleasant," she told her, smiling so convincingly that Maria let the matter drop.

"What did you think of the food?" Maria asked.

"_How did I miss this prying side of her earlier?"_ Mitchie wondered. _"Because you were desperate for a friend," _she answered herself.

"Madam Gray?" Maria asked softly, and Mitchie realized that she hadn't answered the girl yet.

"Forgive me," she said quickly. "You got me started thinking on all that wonderful food, and then I fear that I forgot myself." Mitchie gave a little laugh, and breathed a sigh of relief when Maria did as well.

"It's quite easy to do that," Maria told her. "It's all so wonderfully delicious."

Mitchie nodded in agreement, but she couldn't help but think about the wonderful family meals that she had had with her family. Images of her wedding, the Christmas she had shared with them, and her birthday flashed through her mind, and Mitchie found herself wishing for the simple fare.

"What did you think of Her Majesty's outfit tonight?" Maria asked. "Didn't she look beautiful tonight?"

Mitchie thought back to the many, overly large jewels that the queen had worn, and how the colors had clashed, but nodded and said, "She was very colorful." She smiled at Maria. "She has excellent taste in clothes." _"Not that same taste in color coordination,"_ she thought ironically.

Maria turned another corner and said, "Here we are!"

And so they were. Mitchie recognized the hall as the one that housed her apartment, so she smiled again and said, "Thank you again. I promise that at one point, I'll learn how to get around by myself."

Maria smiled and nodded. "It's a good goal to have, but don't expect it to come immediately." She stepped a little closer and whispered, "Word of wisdom for you-"

"You seem to have a lot of words of wisdom," Mitchie teased, folding her arms over her chest.

Maria blushed and looked uncomfortable. "I have a lot of years of experience here at court," she said as her excuse.

Mitchie nodded. "Go on," she said.

Maria smiled uneasily and said, "I learned by remembering the ways to and from one place at a time. Then, I moved on to the next one. Never try and take on two different paths at one time. You'll get turned around."

"Thank you," Mitchie said happily. "I feel like I can learn anything from you."

Maria smiled back and teased, "And you can _tell_ me anything." She curtsied and left, still smiling.

Mitchie turned back to the apartment door and muttered, "Not likely."

This was one game that Queen Victoria was not going to win.

**A/N: Hope you guys liked it! I'm off on a "secret" day with my aunt. She won't tell me where we're going........so I'll be checking my emails when I get home. I'd LOVE for there to be a few reviews there! ;)**


	81. Friends

**This is Prompt No. 1-Friends**

Throughout the next weeks that Mitchie spent in Queen Victoria's court, Maria was almost constantly by her side. Mitchie found her incentive to learn the paths simply because she didn't want Maria constantly hanging over her shoulder, prying her with Queen Victoria's questions.

One day, Maria was bringing Mitchie back from the dining room after lunch, and Mitchie turned to her and said, "For dinner, I'd like to try it on my own."

Maria frowned. "Try what on your own?" she asked.

"Try finding the dining room on my own," Mitchie clarified.

"But-but, you can't!" Maria cried, her eyes widening as she realized that she had just told a person of higher rank than she that they couldn't do something. "I mean, you've only been here a few weeks. You might get lost."

"Oh if that's all you're worried about, then you shouldn't worry," Mitchie told her sweetly. "I took your advice and learned my way quickly. Now you won't have to worry about me for meals. I can find the dining room very well, thank you."

She turned and entered her apartment, pressing her ear against the closed door in time for her to hear the disappointed, "Yes ma'am," that Maria muttered.

She turned away from the door and grinned. "So much for that," she said aloud.

She made her way into her lavish apartments, skirting around the little pedestal that held an expensive Chinese vase as she always did. She knew that the first time she walked past it, she would trip and it would fall and shatter. She made her way through the different rooms into her bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

"Why me?" she asked the ceiling. "Why did it have to be me?"

She turned over and buried her face in her pillow, mentally calculating how many hours she had to wallow until she had to get up and arrive at dinner with a smile on her face. There weren't enough of them. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on thoughts of home. Time passed swifter than she had expected it to, aided by the slight nap that furthered the dreams, and Mitchie was left with only enough time to get up and change into one her borrowed evening gowns. After discovering that Mitchie possessed only two evening gowns, due to the "lack of baggage space," Maria had procured several outfits for her wear.

"You can't wear only two dresses," Maria had said, horrified. She had lent Mitchie four more dresses, refusing to say where they came from.

Now, Mitchie found herself grateful for the extra clothes. She slid into a pale green dress and struggled with the buttons. She had never used her ladies in waiting, claiming that she had no use for them since she always dressed herself at home, but secretly preferring the solitude that having no help afforded.

When it was time to set out for the dining room, Mitchie squared her shoulders and headed out for the first time by herself. She easily found the way and walked into the room with a grace she did not feel. She smiled and nodded at the few people that would recognize her as an equal, and simply granted the rest the respect of her downcast eyes.

As she walked to her seat, wishing that she had been granted a seat closer to the door so that her entrances would not always be so dramatic and long, Mitchie glanced around and noticed the looks on several people's faces. The bloodthirsty look of curiosity that fueled the friendships around the court gleamed in their eyes, even as they tried to make their friendships look appealing. "Come and confide all your secrets in me," their looks seemed to say, even as their minds plotted to ruin the status you had worked for at the court.

"Good evening," Mitchie said as she passed the earl who always sat next to her.

In response, he yanked on his tie and gulped. "Uh," he stuttered, embarrassed as Mitchie seated herself before his fumbling hands could reach her chair. "Go-good evening."

Mitchie smiled. It had taken quite a few dinners, and quite a few bruised calf muscles before she had been able to forge the friendship she had with the earl that sat next to her. She had never asked what he was earl of, and he had never offered it. He was the one person that spoke to Mitchie as an equal throughout dinner, if he spoke to her at all!

Everyone rose, as was custom, when Queen Victoria entered the dining room, and as usual, the semi-pleasant atmosphere seemed to vanish, morphing into the strained atmosphere that reeked of power. "Begin," was all Queen Victoria said, motioning to the dish set before her, a signal to all those around that they might begin their meals.

Mitchie picked up her first fork and began eating the first course, gauging how much she should eat since there were six more courses after that one. She glanced towards the head of the table and found the queen watching her intently. Mitchie quickly glanced back down at her plate, becoming engrossed in the delicate weavings along the rim. "Strange," she muttered.

"Pardon?" the earl asked, succeeding in dropping his fork in the process. Everyone looked up at the loud clatter, and the earl's whole face turned a deep shade of embarrassed red.

Queen Victoria sniffed disdainfully, but only snapped for a waiter and asked, "Would you please make sure that you give our dear earl another fork." The condescension in her tone made the poor man blush even harder.

"Don't worry," Mitchie assured him cheerfully. "I did that all the time back home. It was almost as though someone would _wait_ for me to get a forkful of food before they would tell me some shocking news." The earl smiled slightly at that, but then blushed again as a waiter brought him another fork. "Everyone does it at some point," she assured him.

He looked at her and smiled weakly. "Yes, but not in Queen Victoria's court," he told her softly.

Mitchie opened her mouth, and then closed it again. "I have no reply for that," she told him honestly. He smiled and turned back to his dinner.

Mitchie turned and focused once again on her dinner, but chanced a look at Queen Victoria and found the queen once again looking at her. Mitchie smiled and dipped her head politely, but her mind was working furiously as she turned and glanced back down at her dinner.

The queen, of late, had been watching her often, regarding her with a look that bordered in between curiosity and wariness. Her gaze often pierced through Mitchie's defenses, as the stare had done the first day she had arrived. Mitchie bit her lip. Did Queen Victoria suspect her? Did she _know_ what Mitchie was doing? Was she simply the type of person that would stare others down?

"All of the above," Mitchie whispered to herself.

"Pardon?" the earl asked again, thinking that she was talking to him. Mitchie was glad to see that he refrained from dropping any utensils this time.

"Nothing," she told him with an apologetic smile.

She glanced at the rest of the table and saw another woman watching her. When she realized that she had been spotted, the woman smiled her most charming smile and dipped her head, even though Mitchie realized that she was much higher on the social ladder than she herself was. Mitchie nodded back, but refrained from any other contact. Yet another person that wanted to know all about her and her reasons for being at court. Mitchie rolled her eyes as she focused once more on her dinner. So much for friends.

**A/N: And yes, once again, that last sentence was indeed sarcasm! That was for you, Kacee! ;) LOL! Hope you all liked it! Review please!! Major thanks goes out to Rebekah, who reviewed for the last chapter. Thank you so very much! Your review touched me. I'm so glad you've liked it so far!**


	82. Valentine's Day

**This is Prompt No. 29-Valentine's Day**

Caitlyn regarded Shane with an expression of mixed pity and annoyance. She stood awkwardly from where she was sitting next to Nate and crossed the room to stand in front of her brother-in-law. "Would you _please_ stop worrying" she said, "and have a cookie?" She held out the confection in Shane's direction with a concerned look on her face.

He smiled, looking up from where he was playing with Shania, and took the cookie. "Thanks," he said softly, "and I can't help it. I miss her."

"We all miss her!" Caitlyn snapped, even more annoyed.

"Caitlyn," Nate said in his soft, yet firm, tone. "Yelling isn't good for either Shane or the baby."

Caitlyn instinctively pressed a hand to her stomach and frowned, moving to sit down once again next to her husband. "Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked. "She's been gone too long."

Nate shook his head sadly. "I wish there was, but there isn't." He shrugged and looked dejected. "Queen Victoria entertains a guest whenever she feels like it. It could be months before Mitchie gets an audience. Maybe that's why she hasn't come home yet." His faux hopeful tone made Shane sigh heavily and hold Shania close to his chest.

Her husband's answer was not the one Caitlyn had wanted, so she pressed further. "Couldn't we send someone?" she asked, grasping at any edge she could think of.

Nate rolled his eyes and asked sarcastically, "Haven't we already discussed this?" He wagged his finger in the air. "I could've sworn that we've already been over this."

Caitlyn made a face at him. "We probably have, but I'm going over it again," she told him tartly. "I want to examine every angle."

"We _have_ examined every angle, and we've all decided that there's nothing we can do," Nate told her practically.

Shane, though, latched on to any hope. "Could there be something that we've missed?" he asked hopefully. His brother gave him a look that clearly told him that they had missed nothing.

"She hasn't even written a letter!" Caitlyn whined.

"Who would she address it to?" Nate pointed out. "She'd lead them right to the base, and she knows it."

Caitlyn regarded him for a moment and then asked, "Why do you always have to be right?"

Nate smiled at her. "It's my job," he told her.

"Could we send in another agent?" Shane asked. "Just to make sure that she's okay," he added hastily.

Nate shook his head. "That would be far too risky and too suspicious. No country sends another diplomat to court simply to check up on the first one. Queen Victoria would be tipped off if we did that."

Caitlyn slumped back into her seat. "Today just isn't the same without Mitchie," she said, glancing down at the cookie in her hand. "I mean, she missed Christmas, which was bad enough, but Valentine's Day is an even worse holiday to miss. Everyone but the general has someone." She squeezed Nate's hand. "I have you, and Jason has Daniella from Sector 14." Her cheeks turned pink and she grinned. "I think he's going to ask her to marry him."

Nate rolled his eyes. "For someone who claims not to gossip, or like anything romantic, you sure do like the goings on here at the base."

"They're family!" Caitlyn protested, looking guilty.

Nate gave her an affectionate poke in the ribs. "Just leave them alone, and don't scare Daniella off," he warned her. "Jason actually _wants_ to keep her around."

"Oh," Caitlyn said, teasing him right back. "So that means that I can't spill any of Jason's deep, dark secrets until after the wedding, right?"

Nate grinned. "Right," he told her.

Watching the two of them, Shane couldn't help but feel slightly out of place. He lightly bounced Shania on his knee, feeling his heart swell as he saw her smile, complete with one tooth. Teething was a terrible time, so Shane was enjoying this moment of happiness from his little girl. As he examined her, he noticed how much she looked like her mother, and the swelled heart deflated once again.

He had to find her. He had to make sure that she was okay. Every day that he spent without her, without knowing that she was alright, was torturous for him. Somehow, some way, he would find her, because he knew that he couldn't spend another Valentine's Day without her.

* * *

Thousands of miles away, Mitchie sat slumped against the warm bricks of the kitchen fireplace, hidden in the shadows. Only the young girl that stood in front of her, stirring three pots of soups at the same time, knew that she was there. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the loneliness fade away as she thought about her family. What were they doing today, on Valentine's Day? Were they thinking of her? How was Shane? Was Shania alright?

Those thoughts and others continued to surround her mind, and soon, she was exhausted by her mental worrying. She wished more than ever that she could go home. "Oh, Shane," she whispered, her forehead pressed against the warm bricks beside her.

The delivery door to the kitchen flew open and a young man stepped in out of the cold. He shivered as he pulled off his cap, pulling his coat tighter around his body. "Alice," he said softly.

The girl stirring the soups turned and dropped her ladle. Thankfully, it landed in one of the soup pots. "Gabe, what are you doing here?" she asked, her cheeks pink with excitement and delight, and her hands brushing futilely at her dirty kitchen dress.

The young man stepped closer and said, "You don't think I'd just forget about you on Valentine's Day, now do you?"

Alice smiled, obviously touched, and slipped into the arms he offered, rewarding him with a soft kiss. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I'm so glad you remembered."

Gabe grabbed her hands and pulled her toward the door. "Come with me," he said. "We'll get away from this place for a few hours on our own."

Mitchie could tell that Alice's everything, her heart, mind, and body, wanted to go with Gabe, but she shook her head sadly. "I can't," she said regretfully. "I have to stir these soups for dinner."

Mitchie decided that it was time to make herself known once again. She slipped out from the shadows and cleared her throat, causing Gabe to glance up and Alice to whirl around, embarrassed. "I believe that I can stir a couple of pots," Mitchie told Alice with a wink. "You go on."

"Oh, I couldn't!" Alice protested, but her feet were already carrying her closer to the door.

"Of course you can!" Mitchie said, making shooing motions with her hands. "You wouldn't want to be working on Valentine's Day. Go! I can stir these until they're done."

Alice needed no further urging. "Thank you, madam," she said, bobbing a hurried curtsy, and then she was out the door, barely remembering to grab her coat on the way out.

Gabe turned to Mitchie and doffed his hat. "Thank you, madam," he said softly.

Mitchie inclined her head. "You're welcome," she told him, and then smiled. "Make sure that she enjoys herself."

Gabe grinned back. "I will," he promised, and then he was gone, the door banging slightly behind him.

Mitchie turned back to the soups and picked up the ladle that Alice had haphazardly dropped. She dipped it into the warm liquids and began stirring one and then the other, her mind floating back to Virginia, stories below the earth. She was in the middle of imagining Shania taking her first steps when the door opened and Maria came through it.

The queen's snitch glanced from Mitchie to the soups with badly concealed horror. Finally, she controlled her emotions enough to say coldly, "Her Majesty will honor you with an audience."

Mitchie set the ladle down and removed the soups from the fire. "Then by all means," she said with barely concealed sarcasm, "lead the way."

Maria turned on her heel, and Mitchie followed her out of the kitchen. For the first time in months, Mitchie began to think about the story that could either make or break her mission. _Everything_ depended on its authenticity. Everything.

**A/N: Uh oh! What's going to happen next?? Please review, guys. It means a lot. Also, thanks so much to incywincyspider, who suggested a split chapter to clue you guys into Shane and Shania's wellbeing. Remember...review please!!!!**


	83. Never

**This is Prompt No. 43-Never**

Mitchie's hands were sweating, and her mind was whirling as she followed Maria down the many hallways that lead to the court. She studied the back of Maria's head, wondering why the younger girl was so standoffish today. She had always been bubbly and happy, even overly so, but now she was anything but.

"Maria," she began.

"Yes?" she asked, trying to conceal the sharpness in her voice.

"Is something wrong?" Mitchie asked. "Are you upset?"

Perhaps it was her concerned voice, or perhaps it was the fact that she was pointing out Maria's shortness, but whatever it was, Maria turned and sighed. "I'm sorry," she told Mitchie. Mitchie guessed that she was apologizing for her peevishness, but the way she said it sounded odd, as though she was apologizing for something else.

"It's fine," Mitchie said, as much to Maria as to herself.

"I'm very busy," Maria said as an excuse, "and I'm rather stressed."

Mitchie smiled. "I'm sorry I asked."

At this, Maria's face fell, and a troubled look came over her face. "I'm sorry too," she said, whirling around and continuing to walk down the hall before Mitchie could ask her to expound on her statement.

Mitchie followed obediently, completely lost without Maria, and refrained from asking any more questions. She had a feeling that she didn't want to. Instead, she tried to focus on what she would say when she arrived before the queen. As she went over her story in her head, it began to sound hollow to her, full of mistakes and holes, even though she knew that everything was perfect and that every angle had been covered. _"Stop it!"_ she ordered herself silently. _"You can do this!"_

"Here we are," Maria said flatly, as though she regretted the arrival.

_I can't do this,"_ Mitchie panicked, but then pulled herself together and smiled lightly. "We'd best not keep Her Majesty waiting," she said.

The guards stepped aside, and Mitchie and Maria were let through the doors leading to the court. Maria led the way through the large crowds again, and Mitchie couldn't help but shudder, gripping her skirt in her hands out of fear as she heard the doors clang shut behind her. Her eyes drifted to the floor, disregarding Maria's advice of keeping her chin up and her eyes focused on the queen. Somehow, she couldn't look up at all those openly-curious faces right now.

This walk towards the queen seemed to take much longer than the first one had, and Mitchie was just beginning to think that she would never make it up to the front when Maria suddenly stepped to the side, and Queen Victoria was right in front of her. As usual, the queen was dressed in a dark silk dress, and the way she drummed her fingers on the arm of her throne disturbed Mitchie.

"You're finally here," the queen said, sniffing slightly with annoyance.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Maria said, her voice sounding much like a squeak. "I had a hard time finding her."

The queen sniffed again and waved her hand dismissively in Maria's direction, indicating that she wanted silence from everyone. She turned back towards Mitchie, and her gaze seemed to pierce through her once more. It reminded Mitchie of the gazes she usually received during dinner from Victoria.

"Why did you come to court?" she asked, and Mitchie was surprised at her directness. In society, the spoken word must always have a double meaning. It must be confusing and cryptic so that it would not offend the receiver. It was never that direct.

"I came as a diplomat for the United States," Mitchie told her, surprising herself with the easiness with which she answered the question.

"Why?"

The bluntness once again startled Mitchie, but she answered, outwardly unruffled, "The States believed that I was the most qualified person." _"Not a lie,"_ she reminded herself. _"Caitlyn couldn't come."_

Queen Victoria sniffed again, a common gesture it seemed, and sat back in her throne. "Why would the United States send a woman as their diplomat?" she asked.

Mitchie's mouth fell open in shock at the blunt offense, but she recovered enough to say, "Like I said, Your Majesty, the States believe that I am the most qualified person."

"Why?"

Mitchie smiled. This question was easy to answer. "Your Majesty, you are a woman, and so am I. The States believe that I can relate better than a young man. Don't you?"

A couple of titters were heard around the room, and Queen Victoria glanced sharply at the perpetrators. "We are not amused," she sniffed.

Mitchie bit her lip as the queen stared at her coldly and refused to let herself shift from one foot to the other like she wished to do. "It wasn't supposed to be funny," she said carefully.

"Oh," said Queen Victoria dully. Her eyes narrowed again and she asked, "What did the States want?"

"The States would like to know if they have your allegiance," Mitchie told her.

Queen Victoria snorted. "As you must know," she said slowly, "the States are at war with themselves. How am I supposed to show allegiance to two different causes?"

Mitchie smiled slightly. "A very good question," she said with a nod. "The States are not coming to you as divided nations, but as one. They would like to know if they have Europe's protection."

"Against themselves?" Queen Victoria asked with a smirk, causing some of the courtiers to laugh.

"Against our enemies," Mitchie pressed. How could she word exactly what she wanted to know?

"What makes you think that I'd want to help the United States?" Queen Victoria asked. "You've made quite a mess of your country."

Mitchie nodded. "I agree with you," she said softly. She smiled up at the queen. "Well, which side would you support?"

"Which side of what?" the queen asked.

"Should the United States break and split off, which side would your allegiance cover?" Mitchie asked, realizing that this would be the easiest way to get the information she needed for the UUS. As soon as she asked, Victoria's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why does that matter?" the queen asked.

Mitchie panicked for a moment, scrambling for an answer, but then responded evenly, "The States would like to know."

The queen regarded her for a moment and then she leaned forward slightly so that she could look at Mitchie almost levelly. "I would never support the Union," she hissed, and Mitchie took an involuntary step back. "I _want_ the States divided." She grinned, but the gesture was malicious and hideous. "Easier to break apart that way," she told Mitchie. "I would never, ever, support a president that is stupid enough to think that he can run a country with that many plantations without slaves." She glared at Mitchie and hissed her final blow. "And I would never let a spy like you sway my opinion. Never!"

Mitchie's startled gasp could be heard throughout the whole court.

**A/N: Uh oh! Did you see that coming? Come on guys, please review. I know you're reading it, so review it! :D Hope you liked it, and a shoutout goes out to mymakeupsmearedeyes for the "We are not amused," quote. Hope you laughed at that! LOL!**


	84. Camera

**This is Prompt No. 71-Camera**

Mitchie could not seem to make her brain function long enough to close her jaw from its present, hanging open, state. She heard the gasps behind her and summarized that this revelation of Victoria's was not common knowledge…yet. "Your Majesty!" she gasped out.

One of Victoria's advisers stepped forward hesitantly. "Your Grace," he said, his voice shaking, "that's a grave accusation. Are you _sure_ about this?"

Queen Victoria whirled on him, a sneer on her face. "How dare you?" she asked, her voice deadly quiet. "Who am I?"

The little man gulped. "You're my queen," he squeaked.

"And what does that mean to you?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing.

"It means that you know what's best," the adviser conceded, scrambling away as soon as he possibly could, glad to be out of his queen's way.

"Your Majesty," Mitchie tried again, but the queen cut her off once more.

"Don't try to squirm your way out of it, you spy," Queen Victoria ordered. "I've known about you since before you arrived in my court."

Mitchie's jaw, which had just managed to snap itself back into its proper place, fell once again. "What?" she asked, her mind working furiously to figure out how that could have happened. "How?"

Queen Victoria snapped her fingers. "Felix, bring the photograph from that camera up here so that our little friend can see it." Her tone showed exactly what she thought of her "little friend."

Another man made his way up towards the queen, handing her a sheet of paper. She grabbed it impatiently out of her hand and sat for a moment, examining it. A sly smile crept over her face, and she turned the photo around. "It's a very good likeness, isn't it…Lieutenant Perry?"

Mitchie stared, horrified, at the picture in front of her. There she was, sitting at the table in the saloon, playing poker with Nigel and his band of thugs, masqueraded as a man. She probed her mind, trying to remember what had happened that night. She had been drugged, yes, but she didn't remember anyone having taken her picture. Yet somewhere, in the very furthest recess of her mind, Mitchie remembered the slight clicking sound, and the flash of light that she had dismissed because all she could think about at that moment was not getting sick. It had been a camera.

"Who took this picture?" she asked.

Queen Victoria smirked. "The Union isn't the only group of people that has spies," she said. "They weren't after you when they took this picture, but when they noticed that your drink was being drugged, they figured that there was something important about you, and that you might be a later threat." Her eyes narrowed again as she eyed Mitchie up and down. "Turns out, they were right."

"But-"

Once again, Mitchie was cut off. "You can save any explanations for your execution," Victoria told her.

"But-!"

"Guards!" Queen Victoria called. "Take her away!"

Two guards rushed forward and seized Mitchie, pulling her away from the assembly with a rough, brutal force that had Mitchie squirming away from them in pain. As one guard placed his gloved hand over Mitchie's mouth, she bit down hard. He cursed and sent a slap across her face that made her ears ring.

"You little-" he growled, but Mitchie tuned out the words he assaulted her with.

She kicked out, hoping that her legs would connect with anything, any part that might aid her in escaping. If she could just stand on her own two feet without being dragged, she could put up a fight, but there was no defensive strategy that her family had covered with her for when your attacker was practically carrying you upside down.

"Stop it!" the other guard commanded harshly, driving his fist into Mitchie's lower back.

Mitchie gave a groan and her body went completely slack for a moment with the pain that shot through it. A tear slipped down her cheek and she gulped in a breath of air. She knew that the punch had been a warning. The guard could have hit her harder and could have paralyzed her, but he hadn't. He had just left her dazed and aching enough that she couldn't put up as much of a fight.

The two guards carried her down through many passageways, all of them leading deeper into the ground. Mitchie shivered as a cold draft blew into her face, but she moaned as the action caused her who lumbar to feel as though it was on fire.

"Be quiet," the other guard commanded, slapping the back of Mitchie's head and driving it forward.

"She can't help it," the other guard told him. "I almost paralyzed her." The smugness in his voice, the pride dripping off the words "I" and "paralyzed," almost made Mitchie sick. She felt her heart fill with such loathing that she saw black spots swim before her eyes, and she had to force herself to calm down.

She closed her eyes in the hopes that she could shut out the dimness, knowing that they were taking her to the dungeon underneath the court, the very one that she had heard such horror stories about. Perhaps if she didn't look, it wouldn't be as bad.

The footsteps and heavy breathing of the guards were interrupted only by the opening and closing of a heavy metal, and Mitchie figured that it was a door. "Who goes there?" a rough voice asked, but Mitchie could tell even with her eyes closed that it didn't belong to either of the guards.

"It's just us, Lonnie," said one guard.

"Why hello, lads," the voice said again, grating over each syllable. "What have we here?"

One guard nudged Mitchie, and it was all she could do to fight back another groan of pain. "Prisoner of the queen's. She's a spy."

Mitchie heard a leering laugh, no doubt coming from Lonnie. "Well, that's certainly a change. A nice one, at that. All you're been bringing me of late has been dirty peasants." Mitchie felt another hand touch her arm, squeezing it unnecessarily hard. "Yes," Lonnie murmured, almost to himself, "a very nice change indeed."

"Where should we put her?" one guard asked, his voice sounding strained. "She's heavy as an ox."

Mitchie clenched her jaws together hard. Shane could easily pick her up. She waited, her eyes still closed, for Lonnie's answer.

"Put her over in that cell," he said after a moment. "It's one of the only empty ones."

Mitchie felt a jolt as the guards moved again, and soon another door was being opened. The guards took another couple of steps and then dropped Mitchie. She gave an angry cry of outrage to cover up the pain she felt, and lashed out at the guard nearest her, kicking as hard as she could. "Yow!" he cried out as her foot connected with his kneecap.

He backhanded her across her cheek and Mitchie found herself losing consciousness. The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness completely was, "She's a wild one. Sure you can handle her?"

And it was Lonnie's reply, coupled with his laugh, that chilled her heart. "I think I can manage."

**A/N: What's going to happen next? Let me know what you think!! (Which means you need to review!) ;)**


	85. Water

**This is Prompt No. 34-Water**

Mitchie regained consciousness a few hours later and rolled over, her muscles screaming out their protests, only to find quite a scene going on. Two men, dirty from their matted hair to their scuffed boots, were taking swings at each other and were rolling around on the floor, shouting at each other at the top of their lungs. "She's mine!" one called before the other one dealt a punch to his jaw that jolted him flat on his back.

Mitchie let out a gasp as she realized that they were fighting over _her_! Despite the pain in her back, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and inspected each of the men as closely as she could since they continued to lunge at each other, making their features harder to distinguish. Both were average in height, with generously-portioned middles, and both wore clothes that had definitely seen better days. One's matted hair was a greasy gold color, while the others was an oily black shade.

Mitchie got no further in her examination before there was another roar, this time from the blonde fellow. "No! She's mine! You weren't here when they brought her in!"

"_That must be Lonnie,"_ Mitchie thought, recognizing his voice from earlier.

"Mine!" cried the black-haired ruffian.

Lonnie squirmed out from under the headlock he had been put in and slammed his foot into the back of his opponent's knees, sending him to the ground with a cry. "No, she's mine!"

Mitchie could feel the anger well up in her. How dare they fight over her, a married woman? Neither of them had any claim whatsoever to her! Without thinking, and without realizing that she had spoken aloud, Mitchie announced, "I'm nobody's!" All she could think about was Shane. She was his, and he was hers. If it wasn't him, it was nobody.

Almost immediately, the scuffle ended. Both men turned in her direction, surprised that she was awake and talking. As soon as they looked her way, Mitchie realized her error. She tried to scoot back further in her cell, but met with the solid resistance of the wall. "Oops," she whispered.

"Well, well, well," Lonnie cooed, and it was at that moment that Mitchie officially began to dislike his voice. It sent shivers up her spine. "Our little spy awakes."

The man next to him snickered and nodded. "She's looking a little better, too," he remarked, looking Mitchie up and down until Mitchie squirmed under his inappropriate gaze. He took a step towards the door of Mitchie's cell, but Lonnie put a hand on his arm. "I wouldn't do that, George."

George yanked his arm out of Lonnie's grasp and took another step towards the door. Lonnie's face turned purple and he yanked George around by his shoulder, punching him hard in the nose. George howled as the blood began to flow from the appendage, and he launched himself at Lonnie, starting yet another fight.

Mitchie rolled her eyes and laid back down, hoping that by the time they finished fighting, they might think she had fallen asleep again. She turned towards the wall so that she could keep her eyes open the whole time, but regulated her breathing so that it was deep and even. She barely twitched when she heard a crunch and a bellowing howl that accompanied it. _"Perhaps they'll kill each other and then I can get myself out of here,"_ she thought sourly.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to stare at the wall anymore, and thought back over what had happened. Everything made sense now, at least in Mitchie's mind. Queen Victoria's calculating looks, her stares, her curious questions, it all tied together now. She had known from the very beginning that Mitchie was a spy, and she had kept her there at court to see if she would make a mistake. When Mitchie hadn't, she had been forced to call Mitchie's bluff in front of the whole court. The "audience" she had granted Mitchie had simply been a way to trap her.

"Idiot," Mitchie muttered to herself, but then reminded herself that no one in the UUS would have suspected such a twist to the mission. No one would have even thought about a mission that happened well over two years ago tying into the mission at hand. Thousands of miles between the two, and yet they had been connected and had now caused grave problems.

"_What must Shane think?"_ Mitchie fretted. She'd been gone so long already, that he must be terribly worried. Was Shania alright? Mitchie closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing, which had become heavy and forced in the last few moments as she thought about her family. Would Shane be thinking about his dream? Would he think that she had chosen not to come back? Would he guess that she was in trouble? She groaned as questions assaulted her already worn out mind, causing a headache to build up, pressing against the back of her skull.

"Hey! Stop that!" Lonnie shouted as George tried to charge him. Mitchie rolled over so that she could see what was happening. "I have an idea!"

George, his chest heaving from the exertion, stopped mid lunge, fists clenched and ready in case he didn't like this new idea of Lonnie's. "What?" he asked sharply, obviously eager to continue the fight.

"We could share her!"

Mitchie tried not to retch at that idea. She let her eyes flicker over to George, who seemed to be contemplating that idea. "So we could take turns?" he asked hesitantly.

Lonnie nodded. "You can even go first if you want." His eagerness made Mitchie even more nauseated.

"Fine," George said with a nod. He turned towards the cell, and Mitchie jumped to her feet, blocking the pain that the action caused from her mind.

"I won't let you touch me," she hissed. "I have a husband back home, I belong to only him."

Lonnie looked at George, and George looked at Lonnie. Then, without warning, they burst out laughing. George was slapping his knees in time to his grating laughs, and Lonnie was trying to wipe his eyes. "I think you've misunderstood," Lonnie said in between hiccups. "Yes, I do believe she's got it all wrong."

George just nodded, still laughing. "Yes," he managed to choke out.

Lonnie unlatched the cell door and opened it. "See, we don't want your body. We're rather, how would you say it?" He paused for a moment, trying to think of the word he wanted to use. "We're rather opposed to spies snooping around our queen, and we have a few ways of punishing them and getting them to spill their secrets."

Mitchie set her jaw firmly. "You won't get any secrets from me," she told him coolly.

He just grinned. "We'll see about that." He jerked his head and George stepped inside, advancing towards Mitchie. He reached out, and Mitchie threw a kick at him that caught his wrist. There was a loud crack, and George hissed out some obscenity under his breath.

He grabbed her leg and with a mighty blow, brought his fist down on her femur. The pain caused Mitchie to scream, and she collapsed right into George's arms. He dragged her towards the door of the cell, and Lonnie grinned as he caught sight of Mitchie's pinched, white face. "Don't worry," he told her sweetly, his foul breath causing her stomach to turn. "You won't need that leg where you're going."

George tried to get her to stand up by herself, and the jarring motion on her leg almost made her faint. She let out a groan and a hiss, digging her nails into George's arm as a warning. "Ouch!" he cried, slapping Mitchie across the cheek. "Wildcat."

"Come on, George, hurry up!" Lonnie cried, annoyed. "We have to go."

Mitchie could feel herself being dragged along, but she refused to look up, and instead focused on the stones beneath her feet, counting them as they went by. Her mouth pressed into a thin line as she tried not to cry, but as a particularly hard jar shuddered through her body, two tears fell from her eyes, wetting the pavement but getting lost in the shuffle. No one had seen her pain.

Mitchie soon found out where she was being taken. The smell was the first thing to hit her. She smelled horses and sweat, so she looked up and saw the stables right in front of her. Lonnie looked around to see if there was anyone of consequence around to notice what was going on, and he motioned for George to bring Mitchie along, not noticing the stable boy that slipped back into the shadows of the stable.

George dragged Mitchie further down and she soon saw where the jailers were heading. The water trough for the horses was as long as a tall man, half as deep and just as wide. Her eyes widened and she struggled as much as could, fighting both George and the pain in her leg. "None of that!" he hissed at her, continuing to use his brute strength to drag her over.

Lonnie grinned as she came up to the trough. "Now we'll see about you and your secrets, Wildcat," he said, and his voice sounded as though he was trying not to laugh. "I've often heard that cats don't like water."

He nodded to George, and with that, George plunged Mitchie headfirst into the water trough.

**A/N: Uh oh! Please review!! It means the world to me!!! And no, DrmmGrl, he's not a pervy rapist! LOL! (Now I can say it!)**


	86. Air

**This is Prompt No. 78-Air**

Mitchie gasped as her whole body was submerged in the cold water. She struggled against the hands that held her, fighting a momentary sense of panic as she realized that they didn't intend to pull her from the trough. She twisted around and bucked, feeling her feet connect with something relatively soft. The hands that held her plunged her into the trough deeper for a moment, and then pulled her out. Mitchie spluttered, gasping in air as quickly as she could. She looked around wildly and found George hunched over, gasping as he held her as far away from him as he could. She grinned momentarily as she realized that she had dealt a hard blow to his stomach.

"Who are you working for?" Lonnie asked, suddenly appearing in front of Mitchie's face. She pulled away from him as far as her neck would physically allow, and then hissed, "I'll never tell either of you."

"Fine," Lonnie hissed back, and then he nodded to George, who slammed Mitchie back under the water, holding her there until she had almost run out of air.

She was pulled up, gasping again for oxygen she desperately needed, and Lonnie tried again. "Who are you working for?"

Mitchie shook her head. "Never," she cried, but the last few phonetics of the word were cut off as George submerged her again in the water. Mitchie tried desperately to press against the bottom of the trough, hoping to use her weight to take her to the surface, but George held her down, using two hands when she began to gain an advantage.

With her lungs beginning to spasm, Mitchie was drug from the water, held aloft by George and feeling very much like a drowned rat. She was sure that she looked like one. She coughed, emptying her lungs of some of the extra water. "Ugh," she muttered, groaning as her brain began to feel waterlogged.

"One more time," Lonnie said, coming to stand in front of her and grabbing her by the neck of her now-ruined dress. Momentarily, Mitchie had the ironic thought that she was glad that this had been one of her rental dresses and not one of the ones she had brought. "Who sent you?"

Mitchie barely resisted the urge to spit in his face. "Someone who you will never know," she told him smugly.

This time, it was Lonnie who plunged her into the water, holding her down until Mitchie's vision became dotted with black spots. She fought in the murky water, snapping her eyes shut as her head hit the hard bottom of the trough. She struggled against him, but Lonnie continued to hold her down. Mitchie panicked once again, sure that he was going to drown her. _"Oh Shane,"_ she thought, _"I love you!"_

But at the very end, when Mitchie was sure her lungs could not hold out for another moment, Lonnie dragged her out from the trough. He threw her to the ground, and she lay, coughing and spluttering, taking in greedy gulps of air. She twisted, avoiding putting pressure on her leg, and she coughed up a generous amount of water.

George bent down, and Mitchie's eyes flickered down below his waist, judging how far she would have to lash out, and just how long it would take her. He saw her gaze and quickly moved up closer to her head, making it almost impossible for her to strike at him. "Just tell us where you were sent from, and we'll stop. We might even arrange to have you 'escape,'" he told her, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

For a moment, Mitchie hesitated. She could give him a false address. She could lead them to some out of the way place, and then she would be free to go home, to see her family! But then she realized by the grin that Lonnie was desperately trying to hide as he watched her hesitate, that they would never let her go.

"That's betraying your queen," she said carefully.

Lonnie shrugged. "Sometimes there's a means to an end," he said. "She's helpful, until we need something else, then we'll move on."

Mitchie muttered a name under her breath that was neither foul nor complimentary, and George cried, "Hey!" He moved to backhand her, but Lonnie stopped him with a laugh.

"I've never heard a woman say that before," he said, chuckling.

Mitchie coughed, bringing forth more water, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What can I say?" she asked sarcastically. "You bring out the best in me."

Lonnie grinned and shook his head. "Wildcat," he muttered.

George glared at her for a moment. "Who sent you," he persisted.

Mitchie looked him squarely in the eyes and said, "I'm not telling you."

Obviously the one with a quicker temper, George let out a roar and leapt towards Mitchie. She curled herself up and raised her fists, ready to attack even though in the position she was in, she was almost completely unprotected. When she realized that George was not aiming for her face, but for her leg, Mitchie closed her eyes and sucked in enough air so that she could hold her breath indefinitely.

But the blow never came. At that moment, there was a crash from inside the stables, metal continuously clanging against metal, and George halted in his attack. Mitchie opened her eyes to see him and Lonnie staring at the stables, their eyes fearful and nervous. "Soldiers!" George whispered.

"Let's get out of here!" Lonnie cried.

They each grabbed one of Mitchie's arms and hauled her back into the castle, making their way down to the dungeon as fast as they could. Neither of them noticed as the stable boy stepped out of the shadows, hands crossed over his chest, and watched as they returned to their domain with their prisoner. When he was sure that they weren't coming back, he turned carefully and picked up all the metal horse buckets he had clanged together and set them back in their proper places before disappearing once more into the shadows.

**A/N: To those of you who asked, the boy is NOT Shane, but he has his own special part to play...! What's going to happen next? Review and tell me!!! Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed last chapter!!! I got back from taking special admitting college tests to find all your reviews in my inbox! So awesome!! You rock! :D**


	87. Purple

**This is Prompt No. 74-Purple**

Caitlyn was _sure_ that he was going to have a heart attack. She sat in the corner of the room, rocking her newborn baby boy, watching nervously as Shane's face changed, morphing into different shades of purple. Unconsciously, her shoulders rounded as she waited for him to explode. Nate noticed her face and moved almost silently to sit next to her while Jason settled himself "next to the fire" at her feet, rocking Shania who had finally conceeded to a nap. Feeling protected, Caitlyn worked up enough nerve to ask in a quiet, meek voice that she rarely used, "Shane?"

For a moment, she wasn't sure if he had heard her or not. He was still scowling at the piece of paper in front of him so hard that Caitlyn was beginning to worry that he might create a perpetual crater in between his eyebrows. After a long moment, he turned to look at her, still wearing the same frown. "What?" he asked, and the word came out harsh and pained.

Caitlyn's eyes narrowed and she found the courage she was looking for. She handed her son, Benjamin James, to Nate and stood up from her chair, planting her hands on her hips. "Don't you use that tone of voice with me, Shane Gray," she warned him. "I won't stand for it. If you can't act civilly and tell us what's happened, than you can just trot on back to your own apartments, because I certainly don't want you in mine!"

They stared each other down for a moment, both knowing that she would never do it. After a moment, though, Shane backed down and muttered, "Yes, mother."

Caitlyn ignored the jab and whirled around, her skirts flaring out in silent offense, and seated herself in the rocker once more, reaching for her son. "What's happened?" she asked. "Who was the letter from?"

Shane's brown eyes seemed to darken until they were almost completely black. He glanced down at the letter and pressed his lips into a hard line. "It's from Jeffery Blake. It's about Mitchie."

Caitlyn sucked in a gasp and Jason's eyes widened. "You didn't," he said softly. "Tell me you didn't."

"Well who else was there?" Shane asked, his tone irritated and clipped. "He's not in any real danger, plus, he's the one that got me out of that trap in Cheapside a couple of years ago. He was a big help on that mission and I'm sure he can do it again."

Caitlyn gritted her teeth. "Shane, you can't!" she cried. "What have you asked him to do?"

Shane shrugged, and Caitlyn saw the guilty look he was trying to hide. "I just asked him if he would go in and take a look around to see where Mitchie might be, and if she was alright." When he saw Caitlyn's furious expression, he quickly added, "I gave him the chance to say no, and besides, there was no one else!"

"After what you did for him?" Caitlyn asked, her voice rising. Shania awoke and began fussing, as did Ben, but she didn't glance at either of them. "That boy idolizes you! He'd do anything for you!"

Shane glared at the ground, knowing that she was right. He'd brought the boy into a safe home where his adopted parents had paid for a schooling he never would have had otherwise. "He's not a boy," he said sullenly as his only defense.

"Shane! He's sixteen! Just sixteen!"

Shane whirled on Caitlyn so fast that Nate actually stood from where he had been sitting, just in case his brother lost control. "I was sixteen when I completed my first mission."

Caitlyn shook her head. "You had years of training though! This isn't fair to Jeff, or to Amy!"

"Amy will get over it," Shane said coldly, thinking of Jeff's small little sprite of a beau.

Caitlyn laughed harshly. "Fine thing for you to say. What if someone had you go somewhere and leave Mitchie behind? How would you like that?"

"I _have_ left Mitchie behind," Shane answered her immediately, his voice deadly quiet. "I know what it feels like to be away from someone you love, and that's why I'm trying to get her back."

They stared at each other for a long time again, and it was Jason who broke the silence first. "I'm sure Shane knows what he's doing," he told Caitlyn, trying to gauge her reaction. Her scathing look said it all. She didn't appreciate being overruled. "He thinks of Jeff as another brother. He'd never do anything to intentionally put him in danger."

"But perhaps he'd do it unintentionally," Caitlyn said softly, gazing right at Shane as she said it.

Shane glanced back at her, unflinchingly. "You know I wouldn't," he told her softly.

Jason clapped his hands, hoping to break the silence that had settled over the room. "Now that that's settled, what did the letter say?"

Shane turned from Caitlyn to look at Jason. "It says that Mitchie's in trouble, and that we have work to do," he said honestly. He looked from face to face around the room at his three family members. "For this to work, I'll need everyone's help." He looked right at Caitlyn, not sure what she would say.

She paused, thinking, drawing the suspense out. "You have my help," she said after a moment. He waited, knowing that there was going to be more that she had to say. "But please," she went on, "make sure that Jeff gets out." She bit her lip, showing a strange amount of emotion as she spoke. "I had a brother. You remember him, right?" This question was directed at Nate, who nodded.

"Will," he said, regret in his eyes. Though the other two men in the room didn't know where this story was heading, he did, and it was clear that he didn't want to hear it again.

"Right," Caitlyn said softly. "Will, my baby brother." She looked up at Shane, flipping her hair out of her face in order to hide the beginning of tears in her eyes. "He was a soldier for the Confederates," she told Shane, "and he was only sixteen. I was on a mission here at the very beginning of the war, and I watched him die on the battlefield, practically right in front of me." She met Shane's eyes again and said, "Please Shane, he had his whole life ahead of him, and he lost it because someone was a lucky shot. _Please_ don't let Jeff's life end like that."

Shane and Jason both worked hard at not tearing up as they listened to Caitlyn's story. Shane nodded as all eyes turned to him. "I won't," he promised. "I'll make sure that he lives a full life."

Caitlyn nodded tartly, and the old Caitlyn returned as she asked, "So what do we do first?"

* * *

A loud crack resounded around the prison, accompanied by a hiss, and Mitchie slumped to the floor of her cell, trying not to show just how much pain she was in. She glanced down at the floor, trying to block out Lonnie's high laugh, and instead, her eyes focused on her leg. She knew that she would never walk the same, but she had managed to set it by wrapping it in the hem material of her skirt. It no longer curved inwards, so she might simply have a slight limp for the rest of her life.

As she reached down to arrange her slightly short skirt so that it covered her legs completely, she noticed with revulsion that the bruises on her arms had turned a deep purple color. She looked away, sickened. She knew that many did not survive what she was being put through, since she went through daily fights with Lonnie and George, but even the knowledge that she was being very brave did not ease her mind or help heal her body. The errant jailers had long ago decided that she would stick to her resolve of not telling them anything, so they had resorted to punishing her for her acts as a spy, as well as her ability to keep her mouth shut at the most "inconvenient" times.

She glanced down at her wrist, already able to see the deep violet swelling that had begun. She was glad that Shane couldn't see her now. Though she had no mirror, she knew that she must look like a mess. Her hair was not even close to the careful style she had had it in when she had appeared before the queen, and almost every inch of her body was covered in bruises of varying degrees. She knew that if she could see herself, she would be repulsed, and if Shane were here, he would be horrified.

_"I just want to go home,"_ Mitchie thought as she gritted her teeth and yanked on her wrist, holding her breath against the scream that threatened to break forth as the bone grated back into its original spot. Her face grew hot as she continued to hold her breath, and Mitchie was sure that her face had turned purple by the time she let her breath out. At the painful points in her life, Shane had been there with her, but not this time, and his presence was sorely missed.

She heard the door to her cell open, and she looked up. George walked in, and Mitchie slid herself back against the wall of her cell as he advanced towards her. _"I **really** want to go home,"_ was all she could think of at that moment when his bulky shadow loomed over her, completely engulfing her small frame.

**A/N: There you go, DrmmGrl! ;) Sorry to disappoint you, Kacee, but it's not a girl! For the rest of you, please review. It WILL get better, I promise! :D I feel so bad writing these parts, but they must be written!! So review, and I'll get to the good parts faster! Hope you liked it overall! :D**


	88. Broken

**This is Prompt No. 9-Broken**

Mitchie lay awake, shivering, on her bed of straw. She shifted a minuscule amount and winced as pain coursed up her thigh. She stared up at the ceiling, wishing away the pain she felt until the throbbing actually ceased. The position she was in was making her uncomfortable. Could she manage to turn over and readjust herself without jangling the manacles and waking Lonnie or George?

"I'll try," she whispered, knowing the painful consequences that would befall her if they woke and found her able to move.

Of late, George and Lonnie had found their amusement by testing out their fighting skills until Mitchie was unable to walk anymore. When she collapsed on the ground, unable to get up, they would finally leave her alone, until her strength had returned for another round.

"_If I could just get my hands and feet free,"_ Mitchie thought, rubbing her wrists against the shackles she was encaged in, _"then I could fight them both. It wouldn't even matter that they're heavier than I am."_

But she knew that such a wish was impossible. Neither one of the jailers would let her out of her bindings, for they knew that she would try and fight them. It didn't matter to them that it was obvious she wouldn't stand a chance against them in her present state, or that she could barely function, it only mattered that they didn't kill her. In their minds, driving her to the brink of death, but not sending her over, kept Queen Victoria's wrath away from them.

Mitchie grimaced as she remembered Lonnie's words: "It's our duty to the queen," he had said, "to flush out every unworthy person-"

"Spy!" George had spit out, interjecting on Lonnie's speech.

Lonnie had cuffed him, shouting, "Will you shut up? I'm trying to speak here!"

George had pouted and had looked sullen. "Fine," he had muttered.

"It's our job to flush out spies," Lonnie had gone on, casting a glance at George to make sure that he had picked up on the word usage of his reconstructed sentence. "Queen Victoria hasn't set a date yet for your trial, so we have to get as much information as we can out of you before she does."

"Like I've told you a thousand times," Mitchie had begun, her words slightly muffled around her split lip, "I'm not going-"

"To tell us anything," Lonnie had finished in a bored voice just a moment before the back of his hand connected with Mitchie's cheek. "We know."

It was from that moment on, the moment where he had switched from speaking to hitting and back again with such ease, that Mitchie understood for a fact something that she had wondered about. Lonnie and George were not completely "there." From that moment on, Mitchie had begun to fear that she would never make it out of the prison.

Back in the present, Mitchie shivered again from the cold that radiated out from the window directly across from her cell and managed to turn over on the horrid, straw excuse for a bed without disturbing the noisy shackles. She closed her eyes, thankful when she heard one snore and then an answering one. For now, she was safe. For now, her body had time to heal.

"_Shane, where are you?"_ she silently cried out, wishing that he could somehow hear her across the vast ocean that separated them. Mitchie pressed her cheek into the straw, determined not to cry. A part of her, the trained, controlled part, warned her that crying was a sigh of weakness, and that it proved to the enemy that they had won. But the part of her that was still a young woman, a girl barely over eighteen, screamed and cried on the inside, tormented by the pain and suffering she was feeling.

"_Please, Shane,"_ she thought as she listened to the quiet sounds of the dungeon, now intensified by the lack of daily activity. Water dripped somewhere, and Mitchie shivered once more as she realized that it sounded like a clock, ticking down the time until Queen Victoria ordered her execution.

"_Shane!"_ her heart cried out, wishing for the knight in shining armor from the fairy tales, the harlequin from France, to come rescue her.

Ever so softly, Mitchie ran her less bruised hand over her stomach, thinking of the baby she might never hold again. _"My dear Shania,"_ she thought. _"How I love you!"_

She lay there for the rest of the night, her left hand on her stomach, and her right fingers cradling the base of the finger where Shane's ring should have been. As dawn began to turn the walls of the cell from black to an ugly gray, Mitchie rolled over to face the wall so that Lonnie and George couldn't see that she was awake. She stifled a yawn, worried that even a whisper of a sound would wake up the mad jailers. The did not awake, and Mitchie breathed a sigh of relief once more. She closed her eyes and let her body relax onto the floor. Perhaps she would be able to sleep just for a few moments...

* * *

"Of course that's what she said!" someone yelled, startling Mitchie from her sleep. She clenched her hands into fists, worried that the blows would came at her back first. After a moment, though, she realized that the person speaking wasn't speaking to her.

"Are you sure?" That was George. Mitchie could identify him easily by the low, almost growl-like tone he always used.

"Of course!" Lonnie's high pitched voice rose to an even higher peal. "What, do you think I got it wrong or something?"

"Well..." The pause said everything.

"I didn't! Why else would the queen send for me and not you?" Mitchie's ears perked up at this. The queen had sent for Lonnie? Why?

The door to her cell opened and Mitchie automatically tensed. The footsteps drew closer and closer to her, but no blow was lashed out. The person bent down behind her, and Lonnie's voice asked, "Are you awake?"

Mitchie chose not to answer, fearful that it might be a ruse, and excuse somehow to beat her more.

Lonnie chuckled as though he could hear her thoughts. "That's fine," he said softly. "Sleep all you can. Your beauty rest is important." He ignored the snort from George and continued. "Because when the queen executes you in two weeks, you'll want to look your best." He grinned again and stood, exiting the cell with a loud clang.

Mitchie was almost too frozen to think. Her mind worked hurriedly, but all that made sense to her at that moment was the body inventory her mind was calculating. _"One broken leg, one broken wrist, a fractured collar bone, more bruises than I can count, a black eye, a split lip, and a queen that wants me beheaded," _she thought. _"The next two weeks should be interesting."_

**A/N: Well? Please review because I want to know what you think!! Some shorter chapters will be coming up, just to warn you! :D**


	89. Sun

**This is Prompt No. 99-Sun**

Over the next two weeks, Mitchie found time to heal. The queen had ordered that she not be harmed further, and for the moment, Lonnie and George had left her alone. At first, Mitchie had been touched when she had heard the queen's order, and the directive had given her hope, but Lonnie had quickly crushed that hope as soon as he saw her face.

"She's not doing it because she likes you," he had told her as he leaned casually on the bars of Mitchie's cell. "She's doing it because the townspeople don't like to see their victims all battered and bruised when they're executed."

Almost instantly, Mitchie's stomach had turned in revulsion and no more had been said on the matter.

Now, the day before the execution was to take place, Mitchie became bold enough to demand that she be allowed outside for a few minutes. Spring had arrived in Europe, and Mitchie was eager to soak up as much sun as she possibly could. Lonnie had tried to debate her, and had finally decided to ask the queen whether he had to grant Mitchie that small courtesy.

Mitchie waited for hours that day before Lonnie had come back down the stone steps to the dungeon, his feet dragging as he came. With a sullen look, he grabbed the keys from George and opened her cell, jamming the key into the lock harder than necessary. "Come on," he growled, and led her up the steps and out into one of the minor gardens where no courtiers roamed.

"That should hold you," he responded gruffly after he had chained her to the wrought iron bench she had chosen to sit on. "Now stay there!" With that, he turned and marched away, angered and defeated by the queen's grant to his captive's request.

Mitchie rolled her eyes as he walked away. "Like I could actually go anywhere?" she said aloud once Lonnie had disappeared and she was safe from him and his very hard backhand. The fear she was feeling channeled into sarcasm and she felt another wave of disgust for the two jailers flow through her.

But as she looked out over the garden, extravagant and beautiful, a small bit of her fear vanished, leaving behind the wonder over the colors of the garden in its place. Her eyes, accustomed to the dim, dull lights of the dungeon, were forced to squint when she looked up, but the pain that she felt from the bright rays was worth it as she saw the sky for the first time in a long time.

She sighed, her fingers curling around the material that used to be a skirt. Now, it would barely pass for a rag. The slight breeze played with her hair as she fingered the skirt, getting lost in the pattern of swirls on it as she remembered the fateful day when she had worn this the first time. So much had happened since then that it seemed as though it had been ages since she had stepped through the barred doors of Queen Victoria's court.

"I wish I hadn't," she muttered out loud, gritting her teeth. She knew that she would have been happy if she had never crossed the Atlantic for the purpose of speaking with Victoria.

"Hadn't what?" someone asked.

Mitchie's head snapped up in surprise and her eyes flew wide open. She scanned the garden for a split second before she pinpointed the speaker. "Hadn't come here," she told him with a small smile.

The young gardener, perhaps only a couple years younger than herself, stood from the flowerbed he had been working on and stepped around the bushel of flowers that had hidden him from view. His knees were dirty and stained from working in the soil, and his hands were making the same kind of marks on the top of his trousers as he wiped them free of dirt. His kind face gazed at Mitchie without fear or disgust even though Mitchie knew that she looked terrible.

"I heard about you being a spy," he said carefully, stepping closer to Mitchie so that he could stand in front of her. She watched as his eyes flickered down to the chains that bound her to the chair and then traveled back up to her face again. "Is it true?"

Mitchie hesitated for a moment. Should she tell this boy the truth, or was he a spy for the queen? Would her answer jeopardize her fate, or had the queen already sealed it? No, she realized, her fate was already sealed. The queen knew without a doubt that she was a spy, so what harm could it do to admit it? She made her choice and nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice sounding defeated even as she admitted it. "It's true."

She expected him to shrink away, to be disgusted that a person would actually spy on his queen, but he seemed unfazed. "Oh," was all he said. He looked down for a moment, and then looked back at her with a pitying look. "You're married?"

Mitchie gave a start. _"How did he know that?"_ she wondered. "How did you know that?" she asked aloud, hedging around the answer.

The boy smiled and nodded to Mitchie's hand, lying limp in her lap. "You have an indentation on your ring finger." He smiled. "It hasn't gone away even though you took your ring off before you came."

Mitchie was surprised by his perceptiveness. "You're right," she said softly, unconsciously touching the base of her ring finger where Shane's ring should be. Instead, there was only an empty space with only a memory of what should have been there.

"Do you love him?" the boy asked.

Mitchie smiled. "Very much," she told him. _"Very, very much,"_ her mind whispered.

The boy nodded. "Do you think he'll come for you before tomorrow?"

As he said that, Mitchie suddenly understood the gravity of the situation. Tomorrow was her execution. Mitchie felt a tightness around her heart as though she was being hung already. Tomorrow, she would die, and no one would come to save her because no one knew that she was in trouble.

"I don't think so," she said softly, a tear falling from her eyes without permission. She looked down quickly to hide her tears, but she couldn't keep them back.

She heard a shuffle in front of her, and then a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder. She looked up at the young man in front of her. "Don't give up," he cautioned her, his own face drawn and serious. "Please, don't give up."

His face was pleading her, and Mitchie knew that she wouldn't see him again, so she nodded and tried to smile. The effect was a wobbly grimace of sorts, but the young man understood. "I'll try," she promised. "I promise that I'll try."

The boy nodded, looking a little more relieved. "You never know what might happen," he told her with a smile and doffed his hat, turning to go.

"Wait!" Mitchie called. "What's your name?"

The boy turned around and smiled. "Jeffery, but everyone calls me Jeff." With that, he was gone, disappearing around a corner of the elaborate gardens and leaving Mitchie alone with her thoughts once more.

"Jeff," Mitchie whispered to the garden as she sat back against the bench. "Jeff." For some reason, though she didn't understand why, the name gave her hope. Like the sun that shined down on her as she sat there, his presence was a light in her presently dark world of suffering and pain.

**A/N: I am SOOO sorry guys! It's been forever since I've updated! :( Kill me now! (NOT literally!) I hope you liked this, though it's been a long time coming. PLEASE review, though I know I don't deserve it. I really thrive on your guys' reviews! :D**


	90. Mixed Emotion

**This is Prompt No. 39-Mixed Emotion**

That night, Mitchie lay awake again, staring at the ceiling and listening subconsciously to the annoying snoring trait that both Lonnie and George possessed. She no longer worried about noisily moving around because neither of the jailers could touch her tonight. _"There are perks to being executed," _she thought wryly, but her own sarcasm, forced on the brink of death, could not even bring a smile to her face.

She rolled toward the cell door and closed her eyes, trying to bring her swirling mind back into order. Her emotions were mixing and convulsing in such quick concession that she couldn't identify what exactly she was feeling.

_Fear_. Fear of what was to come. Fear that she wouldn't be brave enough to face the queen without breaking down and begging for mercy. Fear that she wouldn't be able to face the people of London, watching them jeer at her, yelling out horrid names at her as she stepped up to the block.

_Relief_. Relief that she was getting out of this cell. Relief that she was getting away from the two mad jailers that were currently sprawled across their desks, snoring and drooling all over the stone tabletop. Relief that although she might die, she would at least be able to slip out of the clutches that misery had held her in for the past months. Relief that she had not been tortured in any other way than by Lonnie and George's fists and an occasional foot or knee.

_Panic_. Panic overtook the fear as Mitchie squirmed on her bed of straw. Panic drove her to jump up and cross the small cell to peer at the lock, wondering how hard it would be to pick it. Panic accelerated her breathing, and she started to hold her breath so that her breathing wouldn't give her away. _"No,"_ she realized with a sinking feeling, _"the lock is too deep and difficult."_

_Anger_. Anger at herself. Anger with Queen Victoria. Anger that she had been caught. Anger that Victoria had sent her spy out to Virginia in the first place. Anger with whoever the inventor of the camera was. Anger that she had allowed herself to be photographed, though she calmed herself down slightly by reminding herself that she had no control over that night.

_Sadness_. She felt sadness creep over her as she thought about her family.

_Jealousy_. She thought of Caitlyn, who would've had her baby by now, and felt a strong sense of jealousy grow towards her sister-in-law. Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't Caitlyn have come in her place? It was all Caitlyn's fault for getting pregnant.

_Remorse_. Almost instantly, Mitchie regretted her feelings towards her best friend and sister-in-law. None of this was Caitlyn's fault. None of it was anyone's fault. No one at the UUS could have seen this type of disaster coming their way. If they had known, they never would have chanced sending her to Europe.

_Grief_. Grief flooded her heart as she realized that she would never get to hold her daughter again. Her husband would never hold her close again. She would never snuggle next to him at night, never lay her head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat until it lulled her to sleep. She would never laugh again with Caitlyn. She would never smile and share a secret joke with Nate. She would never get to tease Jason about Daniella until his face turned bright red.

_Pain_. Mitchie winced as she put too much weight on her broken leg, not liking the feeling the ensued from that.

"Ouch!" she hissed from between her teeth. Her hands tightened around the bars of her cell for a moment as she struggled not to cry out and wake one or both of the jailers.

_Hope_. Hope that tonight might be her last night in this cell, but not her last night of her life. Hope, however misplaced, that she might still have a chance of being released. Hope, again misguided, that Shane might sweep in like in the fairytales and rescue her before it was too late and she was lost forever.

_Annoyance_. Annoyance at herself and her foolish, unrealistic dreams.

_Disgust_. Disgust with herself. Disgust that she had lost hope in her dreams.

With a whirl that left her head reeling from the pain in her leg, she turned away from the bars of the cell so that she could face the back of her cell. Thought the two errant jailers slept soundly, she didn't want anyone to see her cry. A tear slipped down her cheek, soon accompanied by many more, wetting her lashes and falling on her ruined dress.

A sob escaped, and Mitchie leaned her head against the cold blocks of the wall, biting her lips so hard that they drew blood. Her fists struck out at the wall, but her mind was too distraught to recognize the pain that the action caused her. There was a rustling behind her, and Mitchie managed to hold the next sob in, guessing that one of the jailers had awoken. She would not look weak under any circumstances.

Any other night, she would have laid down as quickly as should could, worried that they would trump up a charge that would give them cause to punish her, but she couldn't care less tonight.

A grating sound told her that her cell door was being opened, and she tensed, the fists that had struck out at the wall curling even tighter, ready for a fight. If she was going to be executed tomorrow, then she was going to teach these two men a lesson or two before she died. There was a slight, low groan as the cell door flew open, and Mitchie whirled around, her injured leg forgotten as she faced her attacker.

The person standing in front of her was the last person she would have imagined. Her body pressed back against the cell wall as the person stepped into the cell with her and her fists disappeared behind her back.

Her mouth gaped open and she gasped….

**A/N: Okay, I've attoned for my mistake of not updating soon enough, so you guys should have absolutely no cause NOT to review! ;) I know you guys are reading it, so please, please, PLEASE review it!! mymakeupsmearedeyes, are you happier now? JK!**


	91. Gamble

**This is Prompt No. 21-Gamble**

….."Shane!" Mitchie gasped, her eyes as wide as saucers.

For a moment, Mitchie was sure that she must be dreaming. Having resigned herself to the fact that Shane was not going to come for her, he was the last person she had expected to see just hours before her execution. She pressed herself further against the wall, apprehension setting in. Perhaps this was a trick of Victoria's to gather more information. Mitchie peered through the darkness, examining this man before her and trying to deduce whether or not he was an impostor.

"Mitchie?" he asked softly, as though he was afraid to approach her. She noticed that his voice was barely a whisper and realized that he was trying not to wake the two jailers.

She hesitated. His voice sounded so familiar, so wonderfully familiar, that she found herself taking a step forward. The action aided her in seeing the man in front of her a little more clearly. Yes, this was Shane, she realized. No one could be separated from her for so many months and still have such a look of love on his face as he did right now. No one could look at her with that same look while she was dirty, ragged, and bruised, and not truly love her.

"Shane," she whispered, and took a step towards him, arms outstretched. In two strides, he was picking her up, whirling her around and covering her cheeks with kisses.

After a moment, though, Shane set her down and whispered, "We have to get you out of here." He was clinging to her as he said it, and Mitchie realized that he didn't want to let go of her anymore than she wanted to let go of him.

Sanity returned and she asked, "How did you get in here?"

Shane shrugged. "I gambled," he told her with a grin. He hurriedly explained how he had taken a chance and tricked the guards, and had then flown through the castle to get to the dungeon. "We have to go," he said again, ending his story. "The others are waiting."

Mitchie responded in a way that he hadn't expected. With all the force she could, she slapped him across his face. The force of the blow, coupled with the surprise Shane felt from the action, forced his whole head to the side and he gave a short little gasp of shock. Both of them paused to see if the jailers would wake, but when they didn't, Mitchie hissed, "How could you be so stupid?"

Shane blinked as he took in her furious expression. His utter surprise was clearly etched across his face and he raised one hand to touch his stinging cheek. "What was that for?" he asked. "How am I being stupid?"

Mitchie glared at him and responded, "You should know better than to risk your life like this! You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have gambled your life away for _me_!"

It took a moment for her words to set in, but when they did, Shane's face grew red with anger. He grabbed Mitchie by her shoulders and pushed her gently up against the wall. "You listen to me," he told her in a voice that dared her to refuse. "You listen, and you listen well. _You_ are my life. I wouldn't be able to live without you. Of course I came for you! Don't be so stupid."

Mitchie blinked for a moment, processing his words, and then threw her arms around him and held him tightly, burying her face in his chest. He smelled exactly the way she had remembered him to, and the familiar smell made everything seem more real in some minuscule way. "Oh Shane," she whispered.

Realizing that he had gotten through to her, Shane responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as tightly as he could until she whimpered in protest. He set her down, casting her an apologetic glance, and whispered, "Now, we really have to go."

Mitchie nodded and lifted one leg and then the other so that Shane could remove the shackles that he been secured around her ankles with the keys that he had lifted from Lonnie's pocket. Gingerly, Shane placed the shackles on the floor and then guided Mitchie out of the cell that had been her prison for the past months.

She winced as she hurried alongside him, trying to hobble on her broken leg. Shane noticed and slowed a little. "Sorry," he whispered each time she winced. She knew that time was not on their side, but she couldn't help the pain that hurrying brought her.

They made it to the stairs leading up from the dungeon and Shane motioned for Mitchie to move ahead of him. She made it up the first few stairs before she had to stop, breathless from the exertion. Shane was trying his hardest to close the dungeon door quietly, but the door kept protesting every couple of inches, making it hard for him to proceed. Mitchie watched as sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to keep the door from banging or making too much noise.

Finally, the door closed with a low thud. Shane and Mitchie waited for a moment, tense, to see if the jailers would wake up. All remained quiet, though, and Shane used the keys to lock the door from the outside. Without speaking, he turned and picked Mitchie up, one arm wrapped around her tiny waist, and the other under her knees. Then, he jogged up the stairs and set her down safely on the landing.

"Can you walk?" he whispered to her, searching her face for signs of hesitancy or pain.

Mitchie nodded. "Yes," she said softly, steeling herself against the pain she knew would come if she did.

Shane nodded. "Good." He looked her up and down and winced, obviously hurt by what he saw. "We'll get you to a doctor soon," he promised her, "but for now-"

"We have to go," Mitchie finished for him.

Shane smiled widely at her. "I've mentioned that before, haven't I?"

Mitchie smiled as well. "Once or twice," she said.

Shane gave her hand a squeeze, and then they were slinking through the palace, ducking past a soldier here, hiding behind a tapestry there. Mitchie was out of breath by the time Shane abruptly yanked her through a doorway and led her down the short stairway into the kitchen.

As soon as Mitchie entered the kitchen, she froze. So many memories swept through her as she remembered the last time she had been in this place. The hand holding Shane's tightened as the lone figure in the kitchen looked up at their arrival.

"Is she alright?" the young woman asked.

Mitchie's mouth opened slightly in surprise. "Alice?" she whispered, remembering the young cook that she had filled in for on the day she had been arrested.

Alice nodded. "It's me," she said softly. "My life wouldn't have been the same without you," she told Mitchie. "Gabe was angry at how many hours I worked, so he was going to call off our courting if I wasn't available that day that you helped me." She held up her hand and Mitchie saw the wedding band that adorned Alice's ring finger. "I owe our happiness to you," she said softly.

Shane watched the scene with a smile on his face. His Mitchie, ever the helper to those who needed it. His heart soared as he watched Alice carefully hug Mitchie, and then, all he could think about was the urgent need to kiss his wife. He cleared his throat, a distraction as he cleared his head. "We should be going," he said regretfully.

"Of course," Alice said softly, stepping back from the hug. She smiled at Mitchie. "Go, and Godspeed."

Mitchie nodded and moved toward the door, Shane right behind her. "Goodbye," she said as she stepped out the door. Though she had not known Alice very well, Mitchie was disheartened to know that she would probably never see her again, and there would be no way for them to correspond since all letters at the court were examined.

"Goodbye," Alice whispered, and then she was gone, the door closing and obscuring her from the Grays' view.

Shane, without saying a word, took Mitchie's hand and squeezed it affectionately, silently offering his support. "Come on," he said gently, and then they were off again, running through the courtyards, sliding into the shadows, and effectively slipping out of the gates without detection due to the diversions that had kept the guards busy elsewhere.

Shane led Mitchie as fast as possible through the heart of London, weaving through the town and avoiding the Watch. "Where are we going?" Mitchie gasped out, pulling Shane to a stop so that she could catch her breath for a moment.

"We're heading towards the port," Shane told her. He seemed pained to ask, but added, "It's just a little further. Are you alright that far?"

Mitchie nodded, telling herself that she could make it. She _would _make it. "I'm fine," she bravely told him. "Let's go."

They flew through the rest of the streets and were soon greeted by the fishy smell of the port. As the ships in their berths came in sight, Shane dropped Mitchie's hand and cupped his hands around his mouth. A sound very much like an owl's hoot issued forth, and almost instantly, a shadow stepped out from around a nearby establishment.

Mitchie shrank back, tensing, but Shane put a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright," he assured her. "He's a friend."

As the figure stepped closer and the light of the moon fell on him, Mitchie's eyes widened. "Jeff!" she cried.

Jeff nodded, smiling back at her with a slightly bashful look on his face. "Sorry I had to stretch the truth a bit," he apologized. "I didn't know if Shane was going to make it in time."

Mitchie smiled indulgently. "It's fine," she said softly, smiling at him as well.

"You didn't give up, though, did you?" Jeff asked with a grin.

Mitchie smiled and reached out to hug him. "No, I didn't," she said, "and it's all thanks to you."

Jeff blushed and stepped away from Mitchie, jerking his thumb in the direction of the sea. "The ship's ready to leave. You'd best get going."

Shane pulled Jeff into a handshake that morphed into a hug as well. "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for taking care of my wife."

Jeff returned the hug. "Anything for you," he said truthfully.

That statement struck a chord in Shane and he remembered what Caitlyn had said long ago. "There _is_ one last thing I need from you."

Jeff nodded. "Anything," he said, and by his tone, Shane knew that he meant what he said.

Shane put a hand on Jeff's shoulder and said very seriously, "It might be difficult."

Jeff shook his head. "I can do it."

"It takes skills," Shane warned.

"I learned everything I know from you," Jeff countered.

Shane nodded and then said, "I need you to go back to your home. I need you to propose to that Amy of yours, and I need you to marry her. I need you to have a family, and live to an old age." He paused for a moment and then added softly, "I _need_ you to live a full and complete life."

Jeff began to protest, and Shane knew that if he didn't put a stop to the missions, Jeff would never back down.

"No," Shane said forcefully, using a tone that he had never before used with Jeff. "There will be no more missions. There's nothing left for you in this life. You have a family and a girl that loves you. Make use of it." He gave Jeff a pat on the back. "For me," he added, knowing that that would be his leverage.

Jeff seemed to struggle for a moment, debating between the two worlds, both of which he wanted. Finally, after a long while, he nodded. "Very well," he said resignedly. "I'll do as you ask."

Shane pulled him into one last hug. "Thank you," he said. "You know where to write to. I expect progress reports." He winked to show that he was teasing and then turned to join Mitchie, who had hung back from the two young men, not wanting to intrude.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

Shane nodded. "Yes," he said. "Just clearing up some unfinished business." He smiled at her and asked, "Shall we go?"

Just as he spoke, a bell pealed in the distance. Jeff whirled around and the group watched in horror as more bell towers took up the chorus and lights started to come on in houses. "What's happening?" Mitchie cried, gripping Shane's arm tightly.

"The spy's escaped!!" someone called in the distance. "The spy's escaped!"

Jeff whirled back around and pushed Mitchie and Shane toward the ship. "You need to go, _now_," he told them.

The crew on deck scurried around, making the necessary last-minute preparations that needed to be done as Shane helped Mitchie scramble aboard. Safely on the ship, Mitchie and Shane came to the railing to wave to Jeff just as the ship began to drift out of port. They saw Jeff wave back and then slip into the shadows, appearing no more, even to their well-trained eyes.

"I taught him well," Shane said smugly, earning a half-hearted poking from Mitchie.

"You're silly," she said softly, hugging him even as she said it.

"Shall we go to our cabin?" Shane asked. "The captain secured some warm water for a bath."

Mitchie's eyes lit up. "A bath?" she asked excitedly. "An honest-to-goodness bath?"

Shane laughed and nodded. "Yes," he said. He moved some of her hair back off her neck and ran his fingers lightly over the bruises he found there, his touch feather soft. "Perhaps there will be more than just jail dirt to wash away."

Mitchie nodded, understanding that he meant the memories. "I agree," she said, taking his arm. "We should start right away."

Shane led the way down into the hull, not noticing the captain's worried look. He failed to notice that almost every sailor was glancing back at London, looking nervous, and he failed to notice the large navy ship that was just beginning to set sail.

"All hands on deck!" the captain called to his crew. "We're not out of this one just yet!"

**A/N: UH OH!! Just as everything was going well, huh? LOL! Thanks so much for the reviews, guys. Keep them coming!!! Hope you enjoyed this long chapter. Tell me by reviewing!! :D**


	92. Taste

**This is Prompt No. 76-Taste**

The room that Shane led Mitchie into was rather large for a commercial ship, and Mitchie couldn't help but smile as she noticed that the walls were solid and made out of wood, not metal bars. Her eyes roved from the portal on the outer wall of the ship to the screen that sectioned off one section of the room, to the rather generous bed that had been pushed against the wall.

Shane watched her for a moment, a sense of grief washing over him. His wife, the one that had had everything she could have possibly wanted back in her former life as the daughter of a plantation owner, was appraising this room with the look of one examining a castle in awe. The comparison hurt him, and he wondered exactly what she had been put through these past few months when he had been unable to help her.

"Will it do?" he asked.

Mitchie turned and looked at him, blinking. "Of course it'll do!" she laughed, obviously pleased at what little she saw. "It's wonderful!"

"It's not home," Shane said regretfully.

Mitchie turned to look at him, and he saw a glimpse into her heart in her expression. Gone was the excitement, the happy appraisal of the room. In its place was the haggard look of one who had not eaten a proper meal for months, had not bathed, and had not been loved. Shane's blood ran cold as he saw Mitchie in a different light. The young woman he had known had been partially replaced by this new, grieved Mitchie, and it was his job to bring the old Mitchie back.

"It's fine," she said softly, effectively bringing Shane out of his disturbed thoughts.

He nodded, letting her win on that point. "Which would you like first?" he asked, "food or a bath?"

"Food," Mitchie said almost instantly, but then shook her head. "No, I think I'd like a bath first and then I can enjoy some food."

Shane nodded. "I'll go down to the kitchen and get the hot water."

Mitchie started to move toward the door as well. "I can help-" she began.

Shane placed his hands gently on her shoulders, his stomach twisting as Mitchie involuntarily flinched. If only he had had more time, he could have taken the jailers and…. "Let me take care of you," he begged Mitchie gently, trying to clear his head of its murderous thoughts. She nodded and he leaned in very slowly to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he promised, and was then gone.

When he slipped back into the room, lugging four pails of steaming water, he found Mitchie standing next to the portal, gazing out onto the sea. She turned as the door opened and Shane caught his breath. Though she was battered, bruised, and much more skittish than she had been when she had left, she was still just as beautiful to him as she had been the night he had met her, and the realization that she was _his_ wife sent a thrill through him.

"Give me just a couple of minutes," Shane told her, disappearing behind the screen. Mitchie heard the swish of water and realized that the basin was hidden behind the partition. When Shane appeared again, he held out his hand and said, "You're bath's ready."

Mitchie smiled and nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead her behind the screen. He turned to leave, but she caught his arm to hold him back and asked shyly, "Would you help me?"

"Of course," Shane responded and then added, "I just thought that you were afraid."

Mitchie rubbed her thumb over the back of Shane's hand just like he had done countless times with her when he needed to reassure her of something. "I could never be afraid of you," she said softly.

And so, Shane brought their clasped hands up to his lips and kissed her hand softly before he raised it above her head twirling her gently as he had when the had danced. Now, with her back to him, he began to gently undo the laces on her dress, wincing as more and more purplish-blue skin was revealed to him. When he had finished with her dress, he slid it down to the floor and helped her with her undergarments before helping her into the basin.

He winced again as Mitchie sank into the basin, sighing with such pleasure as the water lapped up to her chin. She stayed there in the water for a long time, not saying anything, and he stayed right next to her, leaning his body against the basin as a support. "Shane?" she said softly.

He sat up almost instantly alert. "Yes?" he asked.

"Would you help me wash my hair?" Mitchie asked.

He nodded and grabbed the soap, moving around to one end of the basin so that he could reach her head. Remembering the content from Jeff's letter, Shane hesitantly asked, "Can you get your hair wet first?"

Mitchie tensed almost instantly, but she nodded and leaned her head back so that her hair, having grown down to her shoulder blades, could dip into the water without having to submerge her face. "Is that okay?" she asked.

"Yes," Shane lied, overlooking the five inches of hair on the top of her head that were still dry as he began to work the soap into a lather over her hair. As he worked the soap into her hair, Shane asked, "Will you tell me what happened?" He felt Mitchie tense again and so he added, "It'll help you get through it, I guarantee it."

For the next fifteen minutes, Mitchie described every detail that she had been put through that was not repetitive. Shane gave all the right words of encouragement in all the right places, intent on making her feel better. He rinsed her hair, looking away as he dumped the water over her. Thankfully, Mitchie only trembled as the water gushed over her and then reached up to work the soap free.

Shane helped her dry off and dress in one of her gowns that he had brought with him, and then realized that Mitchie wanted him with her because she couldn't quite believe that she was safe and back with him. He slipped out to get her some food and hurried back as quickly as he could, bringing the piping hot soup and some crackers with him.

"There you go," he told Mitchie, who was sitting on the edge of the bed trying valiantly not to fall asleep.

Mitchie took the bowl and the crackers from him with a smile and a "thank you." She started in on the soup almost immediately and closed her eyes and she chewed. The taste of that simple fare was more than she could have comprehended. The soup tasted as though it was fit for a king, and the crackers seemed like the manna from heaven.

"How does it taste?" Shane asked hesitantly. "It was all the kitchen had on hand at the moment."

Mitchie shook her head, her mouth full of soup. When she swallowed, she said, "It's wonderful," she said. "It tastes amazing!"

Shane smiled. "Good," he told her and seated himself next to her so that he could talk to her while she ate. It took her very little time to finish the soup and all the crackers and she suddenly turned to Shane and smiled shyly. "Now that I'm all clean, fed, and semi-sane again, I realized that you haven't kissed me properly yet."

With all of Shane's heart, he wanted to kiss her and never stop, but he hesitated as she leaned in. "Are you sure?" he asked, his fingers tracing a large bruise close to her collar bone to illustrate his point.

Mitchie smiled and nodded. "I told you," she said softly, winding her fingers through his hair and making him dizzy. "I could never be afraid of you."

That was all it took. Shane leaned in, and then he was kissing her the way he used to kiss her, and Mitchie was melting into his embrace once again, her heart beating faster than it had in months.

* * *

Hours later, Shane awoke groggily, unsure for a moment where he was. Then, the memories of the night came flooding back and he turned his head to the side to make sure that it was real. Sure enough, there lay Mitchie, curled up against him like she had always been, her hair falling over her bare shoulders and creating a beautiful contrast between light and dark.

Shane watched his wife for a long time, content just to watch her sleep, her eyes rapidly moving in what he hoped was a good dream. By the smile on her face, he guessed that it was. Was it about him? Probably. He smiled at that thought and scooted closer to her so that he could press a soft kiss to her forehead.

He was just about to settle back into bed when he heard muffled shouts and the thuds of something heavy being rolled across the deck. He disentangled himself from around Mitchie and rolled out of bed, finding his clothes scattered around the room and quickly donning them.

He slipped out the door and headed up to the deck only to find every sailor on the ship running to and fro, obeying the captain, who shouted his orders from above. Confused, Shane grabbed the nearest sailor that was scurrying by. "What's going on?" he shouted in order to be heard.

"British ship's gaining ground," the sailor yelled back.

Shane's face paled. "What British ship?" he asked.

"The one that followed us from the port," the sailor called before hurrying off to complete his assigned chore.

Shane hurried to the railing and peered out into the darkness, struggling to see through the fog. There, not far behind them, was the navy ship. Shane whirled around and scrambled up the stairway to stand next to the captain. "What are you planning to do, captain?" he cried.

The captain shook his head. "Not sure!" he called back over the wind and the noise down below them. "Trying to keep the ship out of firing range, but if need be, we'll fight. Each of my men is trained at swordplay."

Shane nodded and clapped the captain on the shoulder. "We'll help," he promised and scurried back down.

He wove through the sailors, heading back down to the cabin as quickly as he could. He slipped through the door almost soundlessly and made his way over to Mitchie's side of the bed where she was still curled up, sleeping soundly. He gently rubbed circles over her arm until she began to stir, and then he rubbed a little harder to get her to open her eyes.

"Mitchie, my darling," he whispered so that he wouldn't scare her, "they need us on deck. We've not finished fighting just yet."

**A/N: Was it what you expected? Was it better than you expected? You have to review to let me know!! :D Hope you all liked it!!**


	93. Storm

**This is Prompt No. 90-Storm**

Mitchie and Shane rushed onto the deck, both clad in the trousers and shirts of two seamen, just as the first roll of thunder shuddered across the sky. Mitchie had tucked all of her hair under her cap and now looked very much like a boy as she stood in front of the captain of the ship, receiving a rapier that the captain deemed to be her size. "Do you think we'll survive this?" she asked Shane quietly as they stood at the rear of the ship, blinking away the rain that was falling in heavy, never-ending sheets.

Shane shrugged, tense. "I don't know," he told her honestly. He turned and looked at her, completely on eye level, and said, "I hope so."

Mitchie nodded back. "I hope so too."

They stood there, back to back, as the pre-dawn storm swirled around them, each wondering if this was the last time that they would ever be together again. With the large navy ship, easily four times bigger than their own tiny boat, bearing down on them, the whole crew seemed strained and drawn. Though they worked quickly, loading the canons and retrieving their guns, Mitchie doubted that they had much faith in their cause.

"Get ready!" the captain yelled. "Here they come!"

His voice was punctuated by the roar of a canon as one of the navy ship's canons spewed forth its weapon. The ball sailed through the air, and for a moment, Mitchie thought that the ball might miss the ship completely, but at the last moment, it dropped, striking the side of the ship and sending a tremor ricocheting through the whole structure. Another six balls flew from Her Majesty's navy, and they were all answered with canon balls from the opposing ship.

"Watch out!" the captain called, making everyone turn at the sound of his voice. Mitchie's head whipped around and she saw the navy ship drawing closer now to the smaller ship. She braced herself, knowing that the navy intended to board the ship and fight that way.

The ship moved through the water, coming to slide up against its prey with a sickening crunch of wood against wood. Dozens of men in uniform poured onto the deck of the smaller ship, rapiers and guns at hand. The crew swarmed around them, trying to cut them off and keep them from taking their ship.

Mitchie waited, her hands twitching against the hilt of her rapier as she waited eagerly for the men to come closer to her. All she could think about was the days upon days that she had been put through excruciating pain because of these men's queen. Her eyes narrowed as she watched some soldiers slip past the first line of sailors. It hurt her to remember, but she brought the memory of flinching instinctively from Shane's touch to the front of her mind. These men were responsible for that.

The first soldier to squeeze through the line of sailors headed for Shane and Mitchie. Mitchie took a step in front of Shane and he protested, "Mitchie-"

Mitchie cut him off with a shake of her head. "He's mine," she said, her voice low and barely perceptible over the din of the battle.

She advanced, striking out quickly and catching the soldier off guard. Although she knew it was wrong, and not the way of a swordswoman, Mitchie let the anger and the hurt she held in her heart rule her blade. She lashed out as fast and as hard as she could, eager to make this soldier atone for England's cruel treatment of her. In a matter of moments, he was dead, and Shane was pulling her away from his body just in time to protect her from another soldier that had lunged toward her.

She parried his sword away from her heart, surprised at the calmness she felt when his sword ripped through the fabric and flesh of her arm. She drove her rapier through his heart, and as he slumped to the ground, she pulled his sword out of her arm as quickly as she could, minimizing the pain from the wound. She clapped a hand over her arm, trying to stem the blood, and turned to look for Shane.

She found her husband a few paces away from her, fighting his own battle with a soldier that seemed to be very skilled in swordplay. Mitchie watched as Shane's brows came together in fierce determination as he tried to counter every thrust from his enemy. A movement out of the corner of her eye drew Mitchie away from the fight. Behind Shane, a soldier was running, rapier raised, and Mitchie's heart stopped for a moment as she realized that he intended to drive the blade through her husband's unprotected back.

Without even thinking, Mitchie took a step forward and hurtled her sword in the advancing soldier's direction. The rapier turned over and over as it spun through the air, and it struck its target with a force that knocked the soldier away from Shane, sending him flying to the deck. He was dead before he ever hit the hard wood of the floor.

Mitchie smiled, feeling her heart swell with satisfaction. Shane had saved her countless times and now she was able to pay him back. Her satisfaction, however, was short-lived. She heard a heavy step behind her and whirled around, only to find the blade of a rapier inches from her neck. Her eyes met those of the cocky soldier that had succeeded in rendering her defenseless. Her first reaction was to raise her sword, so her hand came up, but it came up empty.

The soldier grinned. "Missing something?" he asked, obviously enjoying the leverage she had so conveniently provided him.

"Perhaps," Mitchie said, her eyes narrowing again. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins and she could feel her heart speeding up as she stood poised on the edge of danger.

The soldier took a step forward, so Mitchie, out of desperation and an appreciation for her life, took a step backwards, only to find herself pressed up against the railing of the ship, which only came up to her waist. She winced as she found yet another bruise on her waist, but she refused to give up so easily. Her foot shot out, catching the soldier in the knee, but he only winced, his eyes showing an anger he had yet to act upon. "You'll not drive me away that easily," he growled.

Mitchie tried to look out of the corner of her eye, wondering where Shane was, but she couldn't see him. The blade pressed closer, and Mitchie found herself leaning over the railing. Was he going to kill her, or was he going to toy with her and let her die from her own wounds?

"You thought you were so good," he hissed, seeming to answer her question. "You thought that you could get away. Do you really think that Her Majesty would just let you waltz right out of England after what you did, _spy_?" he asked, spitting out the word as though it was the foulest curse. He didn't wait for a reply, he simply drew back his blade slightly, ready for the kill. "The queen wanted you alive, but," here he shrugged, taking cruel pleasure in watching Mitchie's face, "I'm sure she'll understand."

His blade flew toward her throat, and Mitchie leaned back even more, almost losing her balance. A moment before the blade penetrated her throat, Mitchie saw a movement in her peripheral vision and then the soldier was losing a copious amount of blood from his midsection, and Shane was watching him in grim satisfaction. Mitchie was momentarily worried about how emotionless she felt, watching the soldier fall to the ground, his blood spreading out at her feet, but then she worried no more. This was the enemy, and it was better to be detached than to be attached and emotional.

"Are you alright?" Shane asked her.

Mitchie nodded, rubbing her neck were a small blossom of blood had seeped out due to the rapier's proximity to her skin. Shane extended his hand to help her up from where she still lay bent over the railing, and Mitchie moved to take it. Her boot came in contact with the soldier's blood, and her foot shot out from under her. Mitchie gave a startled cry as she toppled over the railing.

She closed her eyes, expecting the cold, encompassing water, but it never came. Instead, she felt a hard jerk around her wrist, and then she was swinging precariously in between the deck and the sea. She looked up, and there was Shane, once again rescuing her. He started to pull her up, but there came a shout from the deck and his head whirled around to look at something that Mitchie could not see. When he turned back to her, he looked torn and strained, hurried in his movements as he turned to look back over his shoulder again.

"Do you trust me?" he called to her, his eyes pleading her to put her trust and faith in him.

"Yes," she called back.

With that, he let go of her hand and she plummeted down towards the sea.

**A/N: Well? I hope you liked it! Thanks for being so patient with me! Also, if I can ask one more favor, please review. It means SO much to me!! Love you all! :D**


	94. Trust

**This is Prompt No. 8-Trust**

"_I trust him. I trust him. I trust him,"_ Mitchie kept chanting as she fell. She squeezed her eyes shut, continuing to remind herself in the few seconds that she fell that she trusted Shane completely.

Her legs took the brunt of the force as she crashed into something solid, not the water she had been expecting. Her legs buckled under the force, and the rest of her body collided with the hard surface, knocking the breath out of her lungs for a moment. "Oof!" she cried as her back bounced off the surface, jarring her head.

She lay there for a moment, trying to regain the breath she had lost. With a great deal of effort, she managed to roll onto her side and sit up, seeing for the first time what she had landed on. The surface was a rectangular hunk of wood attached to the side of the ship, barely wide enough for a person, but just wide enough for her to land on. She looked up and found herself staring into glass, and smiled. "Of course," she said softly.

Shane had dropped her right outside their tiny room, and Mitchie was able to open the portal with only a slight bit of effort. Getting through it was another matter entirely. She managed to squeeze in by wiggling her hips quite a bit, and then she landed on the floor, safe and sound once again.

Now, the real question that plagued her mind was what to do about the fight two levels above her. Should she remain where she was and wait for the fighting to end? Should she charge back up onto the deck without a weapon? No, that would be foolish, she realized, and just plain stupid.

She was still deciding when she heard a wail from up above her, sounding strangely like her name. "Mitchieeeeeeeeee!" the person screamed, sounding as though his heart was being ripped out in the process. Mitchie felt a wave of cold fear wash over her as she realized that it was Shane's voice she was hearing.

She bolted out of the room, her feet sliding along as she dashed down the corridor of the ship. She launched herself at the stairs and made it only halfway up when she realized that there were no longer any common battle sounds. Everything was quiet except for the rain and the sound of Shane's keening. Instinct made her crouch down, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Give it up, lads," a voice said, and Mitchie identified it as the captain. "You can go back to your queen now. The prisoner is dead."

Another voice, one coated in commanding arrogance, scoffed, "How do we know that she is really dead? Do you think us that stupid?"

A couple of the sailors muttered something that Mitchie could not make out, but she smiled, imagining what it might be. The captain responded immediately, saying, "You saw Mr. Grey drop her. No one could survive that fall into the ocean. She'd be crushed, and even if she _did_ miraculously survive, she'd drown because of those waves." Mitchie could almost see him shaking his head as he went on, "No, I'm afraid we've lost her."

There was a long pause, and Mitchie held her breath, envisioning the captain of the royal navy standing toe to toe with the brave, skilled captain of the little ship she and her husband had fled the country on.

"Fine." The word was clipped, and Mitchie guessed that the navy captain was close to pouting as he said it. "We shall commit her body to the sea. May she rot in hell for what she's done to our country and queen." The disgust was so evident in his speech that Mitchie could envision exactly what his face looked like. His next words, though, surprised and horrified her. "What about that man who tried to save her?"

"No," Mitchie whispered, her right hand balling into a fist and pressing up against her teeth. "No, not Shane!"

The captain sounded surprised as he said, "Surely you don't think he had anything to do with this, do you?" he asked the navy captain. He gave a short, convincing laugh of one who is laughing at another's absurdity. "Why, he's a man from my very own crew! Never met her 'til she ran aboard. I'll warrant he's developed a liking to her, but he'll get over it soon enough. You have nothing to fear from him."

The pause seemed to stretch on for a very long time, longer than was absolutely necessary. Mitchie held her breath, envisioning the navy officer sizing her husband up, weighing whether or not the captain was telling the truth. "Very well," he finally said, "but I never want to see you in London again, or your life will be mine."

Mitchie guessed that this warning was aimed at Shane, for she heard him say quickly, "Aye aye, sir," inserting a half sob for good measure. "Now that she's gone, I never want to see these blasted waters again!"

The navy captain sniffed, completely unsympathetic. "Good," he said, and Mitchie could hear him walking across the deck. "All my men, back on the ship!" he ordered, and after a long while, they were gone.

Mitchie, however, could not find the strength to pull herself up from where she sat. Her legs refused to move, and the severity of the issue slammed into her at full impact. They had been so close to dying…again. Was it never going to end? Her bones felt as though they had been replaced by water, and they weighed her down, paralyzing her, yet causing her to shake all over.

There was a sound above her, and then the tap of boots coming down the ladder. She used all of her strength to pull her chin up so that she could look at the person that was about to step on her. There, she was rewarded, because there stood Shane, looking down at her with a fierce look of alarm on his face. He leapt down the remaining stairs and gathered her into his arms, pulling her off the stairs and around behind them so that the shadows shielded their bodies, protecting them from all the prying eyes. It was like the time they had found each other at the party and he had whiskered her away for a kiss, only this time there was no lightness to the conversation.

"Mitchie, oh Mitchie," he whispered, kissing her hair and holding her tightly. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

Mitchie found the strength to shake her head from side to side. "No," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Shane held her close. "Relax, Mitch," he whispered to her. "You've got to relax. You're going into shock."

Shock. Is that what this emotion she was feeling was? Who knew that shock could completely shut down your entire body in a matter of seconds? She tried to take deep breaths, and she found that that seemed to work. "When will it end?" she whispered to him.

"When will what end?" he asked.

"The running for our lives," she told him. "When will we stop having to worry about dying at every turn?"

Shane looked grim, but he responded honestly. "When the war ends and our job is over," he told her. He pulled her closer still, which she hadn't realized was possible, and began to slowly rock her. The last words she heard before she slipped into an exhausted sleep were, "But don't worry, my love, we're going home."

**A/N: Did you like it?? Let me know! (a.k.a REVIEW!!) Sorry to some of you that I never thanked for reviewing. FF kept telling me that I couldn't respond because I "wasn't the author"! Ha! Of course I am! ;) Anyways, I didn't forget you, so thank you so much! Only seven chapters left! Oh my gosh! :D**


	95. Days

**This is Prompt No. 98-Days**

Over the relatively uneventful month that stretched ahead of them on the ship, Mitchie and Shane found different ways to occupy themselves during the day. Some days, they would just sit out on the deck, the captain having designated a spot where they might sit and relax without getting in the way, and they would talk to each other for hours, not minding the cool, post-winter breeze that blew on them occasionally. Other days, Shane would help the crew with a few odd jobs that needed doing, and Mitchie offered to help some of the lower-ranked men swab the deck.

Day morphed into day as the ship slid across the Atlantic Ocean, having to brave only a couple of nasty storms. Mitchie stood on the deck of the ship one day, watching as the sun sunk over the horizon lazily, as though it really didn't want to give the moon precedence to rise over its domain. In some ways, she felt like the sun. She felt lethargic, but happy. Her one hand moved from the railing to her stomach hesitantly, smiling widely at the ocean. It appeared that in eight more months, there would be another little Grey to welcome into the family.

"Are you alright?" she heard someone ask.

She turned slowly, no longer fearful that anyone was going to hurt her. There stood Shane, his hair slightly messy, yet still adorable, watching her intently. "Of course," she said happily, turning around and leaning back against the railing. _"How could I not be?"_ she wondered, and she was suddenly seized by the desire to tell Shane that he was going to be a father again, but she held her tongue. _"It's too soon,"_ she told herself. _You don't even know for sure, and you don't want to get his hopes up, or your own."_ That thought momentarily made her happiness dim slightly. She had been afraid that the beatings she had gone through might have rendered her incapable of having anymore children, but it seemed as though she might have been wrong! "Was there something wrong?" Mitchie asked, worried that something had happened.

Shane shook his head. "No," he said. "I was just checking on you. I woke up from our nap and couldn't find you." He grinned at Mitchie and she blushed. Some nap it had been.

"No," she quickly covered, "I just wanted to get some fresh air." In truth, she had felt a little bit sick, and she wondered if she might be getting "afternoon sickness" instead of morning sickness.

"Is this an alone time, or are husbands welcome?" Shane asked teasingly, his tone indicating that he didn't mind either way.

Mitchie felt her heart swell with love for this man in front of her. He had been so patient since he had rescued her…again, taking his time and never forcing her to do more than she thought she could. He had even tried to mask the hurt on his face each time she had unintentionally flinched from a hasty action, but he had not managed very well.

"My husband is always welcome," she assured him, beckoning for him to come stand with her at the railing. When he did, she edged away from him playfully. "You're not going to toss me over again, are you?" she teased, reminding him of the morning he had dropped her.

He glared playfully at her. "Very funny," he told her dryly. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her towards him slowly so that he wouldn't jar her wrist, which had just healed fully from its dislocation, and pulled her into his arms. "For that, I just might throw you over," he said, picking her up.

She squealed as her hoisted her into the air, pounding playfully on his back and demanding that he put her down immediately. He did put her down, laughing as he did so, but pulled her in for a long kiss instead. "There," he said when he pulled away from her. "My payment is complete."

Mitchie's mouth twitched into a smile. "You should come collecting more often," she said softly, making them both laugh. They turned toward the ocean and stood there silently on deck, hand in hand, each deep in their own thoughts.

Finally, Mitchie asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Shane slowly turned his head from the ocean to look once more at her. "I'm thinking about going home," he told her, squeezing her hand. "I miss everyone back at the base."

"Me too," Mitchie said softly. "I miss our daughter."

Shane nodded. "She's in very capable hands, though."

Mitchie nodded. "But I missed her first two birthdays, and it's almost her third."

Shane nodded. "Good point," he conceded. He smiled thoughtfully. "She's beautiful," he promised Mitchie. "So like her mother."

Mitchie smiled and leaned against Shane, wishing with all her heart that she could tell him her secret. _"It's too soon,"_ she reminded herself. To take her mind off of the secret she could not share, she asked, "When will we get home?"

Shane was quiet for a moment, calculating, and then he answered, "The captain says that we should reach land in two days, and then it's about a day and a half's journey to the base, so in about four days, we should be home."

"Four days," Mitchie murmured, scarcely able to contain her excitement. "I can't wait," she told him.

Shane grinned at her. "We could always try and swim. We might cut a day out of the journey." He frowned and said, as though muttering to himself, "_If_ we don't get eaten by sharks, that is."

Mitchie smacked his arm playfully. "Don't be silly!" she laughed. "I can wait long enough for the ship to reach land at least."

They both laughed and Shane pulled Mitchie towards him once more, resting his chin on her head. "We're finally going home," he whispered, as though he really couldn't believe it. Mitchie, on the other hand, couldn't wait.

**A/N: Hope you liked it!! :D Thank you all SO much for the reviews. Today's been a hard day, and when I saw all the reviews, it made me feel so much better! Thank you, thank you, thank you!! Please keep it up! wink wink! ;)**


	96. Circle

**This is Prompt No. 77-Circle**

"Are we there yet?"

Shane rolled his eyes as he heard the familiar question yet again. Ever since they had heard someone from the bird's nest cry, "Land ho!" Mitchie had nearly been beside herself with excitement. She was currently pacing up and down the tiny room, which didn't give her much room to pace. She would take seven steps and would then have to turn again and go back the other way.

Finally, Shane couldn't stand her pacing anymore. "Mitchie, please," he said softly. "Stop pacing. It's getting on my nerves."

Mitchie stopped immediately and sat down next to her husband on the bed. "Sorry," she murmured. "I don't mean to be annoying."

Shane found himself regretting his use of words and kissed her forehead, saying softly, "I know you don't. You're just eager to get home." He pulled her close and hugged her to him. "Just like me."

Mitchie smiled. "I can't believe we're almost home."

Shane pulled away, smiling at her. "Should we go up on deck?" he asked. "We can watch the States appear."

Mitchie smiled, knowing that Shane was trying to keep her occupied. "Sure," she said, and took the hand he offered as he guided her out of their room and up onto the deck.

They moved through the sailors to the railing, peering over the water to see their land growing larger and larger as they drew closer. Mitchie couldn't keep the wide smile off her face. They were almost home!

"I suppose you two are happy to be going home," said a voice.

Mitchie and Shane both turned to find the captain standing behind them, watching them admire the chunk of land that was their home. "Yes," they both said at the same time, and laughed at their synchrony.

The captain joined them by the railing, looking out over the sea that had been his home for many years. "If anyone deserves to get to where they want to go, it's you two," he told them honestly. "It's been a long, long time since I've seen anyone as dedicated to their country as you two."

"Thank you," Shane said quietly.

"And," the captain went on with a small smile, "I've _never_ seen anyone as dedicated to each other as you two." His smile widened considerably and he added, "It's a treat to see."

Mitchie ducked her head, honored. "Thank you," she said, mirroring Shane's reaction. "That means so much to us."

The captain laid a hand on each of their shoulders and said, "I don't put much stock in the superstitious things other sailors do, but I think that this is an exception. I bless you two with the blessing of the sea. May you be rewarded for your efforts, and may you live long and prosper." He smiled again and added slightly sheepishly, "And perhaps, sometime, may we meet again."

Mitchie nodded, trying to keep from crying. The sentiment that such a blessing carried was more than she felt entitled to. "You're going to make me cry," she playfully accused.

The captain coughed and said briskly, "Yes, well, I'd, uh, better get back to, uh, my duties." He sniffed, and Mitchie realized that he also was trying to hold back tears. He gave Shane a hearty clap on the back and then turned away from them, calling out, "What are you looking at? Back to your station!" The unfortunate sailor scurried back to his job as quickly as he could, glancing over his shoulder uncertainly.

Mitchie and Shane both smiled as they watched the inwardly-gentle captain walk away. They turned back to the railing, surprised at how quickly the shore had appeared when they had not been looking for it. Shane gripped Mitchie's hand tighter and she squeezed back, knowing exactly what he meant. They were actually close to going home.

About an hour later, the ship docked in a small port, and Mitchie and Shane were forced to say goodbye to the ship, the crew, and the captain. Everyone on board had gathered on the top deck to see them off. As Mitchie and Shane walked past them, each sailor doffed his cap to them. The sign of their admiration was much more than Mitchie had expected, and she smiled appreciatively and nodded to each man as she passed.

Shane guided her through the busy port to the stable at the far end. He disappeared inside for a moment and brought out two beautiful horses, handing the reins to Mitchie and turning to take the two saddles from the small stable hand that was waddling behind him. "Thank you, lad," Shane said, pressing two coins into the boy's hand and watching as his eyes widened with happiness.

"Sir?" he asked hesitantly, wondering if Shane had made a mistake.

Shane shook his head. "Do you remember when I asked you to take care of these horses a couple months ago?"

The boy nodded. "Yes sir," he said.

"And did you take care of them?" Shane asked.

The boy nodded. "I tried, sir."

Shane ruffled his hair affectionately, no doubt thinking of his daughter at home. "Yes, you did, and you did a very good job." He eased the boy's hand back towards his little body and said, "You deserve those coins."

The boy nodded, pocketing the coins and grinning widely. "Thank you sir!" he cried before he ran off.

Shane grinned and turned to Mitchie. "He's a sweet kid." He took the reins from her and began saddling the two horses.

Mitchie rubbed the nose of one and she grinned when it whiffed her hair and cheek. "Where did these horses come from?" she asked curiously.

Shane smiled. "They're part of your payment on the mission," he explained. "The general gave them to me in advance because he figured that I would need a way to get you back."

"I see," Mitchie said, examining the horse again. "I like my payments," she mused to herself.

Shane laughed and swung Mitchie into her saddle before mounting his own animal. "Ready?" he asked her with a smile on his face.

She grinned back. "Absolutely," she assured him.

They spurred their horses on, urging them to reach their fullest potential. Mitchie closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the gait of the horse, the brisk winter wind blowing on her face, and the sunshine that shone down on her. She was finally back on familiar ground, and in only a matter of hours, she would be home once again with her family around her.

They rode all day, stopping only to eat and rest the horses. Mitchie could tell by Shane's eager demeanor that he was just as eager as she to reach home, so she didn't protest when they rode into the night. Finally, close to midnight, Shane pulled his horse up to a stop and Mitchie did so as well.

"Do you mind stopping here for the night?" Shane asked. "Everyone's expecting us tomorrow and we're a few hours away from home, so we won't make it tonight."

Mitchie nodded. "Sure," she said, trying hard to mask her disappointment. She knew that she had been unrealistic when she had hoped that they might get home that night, but she had still hoped for it, and was naturally crushed when it did not work out the way she had planned for it to.

She let Shane make camp and hobble the horses, for she was too tired to, and then she eagerly laid down, letting his strong arms circle around her, keeping her safe and warm and secure. Together, they fell asleep, eager for the next morning to arrive.

* * *

Mitchie awoke to the smell of eggs and coffee. She lifted her head, slightly groggy from the short hours she had slept, and was surprised to see Shane, bending over a tiny little fire he had created. He looked up when she stirred, and he smiled at her. "Morning," he said gently.

"Morning," she returned, rolling over so that she could stand and walk to where he was sitting. He handed her a plate with one egg on it, and also gave her a cup of coffee. "Hope you don't mind," he said apologetically. "It's all I could find."

Mitchie raised an eyebrow and noted his sheepish look. "Where did you _find_ this?" she asked.

Shane shook his head. "You don't want to know," he told her mysteriously. "The coffee was already in my sack, though."

Mitchie realized that he wasn't going to tell her, so she let the matter drop. No doubt some farmer would be missing two eggs somewhere, but at the moment, she couldn't feel sorry for the farmer or upset at Shane. The eggs were too good!

Soon after they ate, Shane and Mitchie saddled up the horses and continued their journey towards the base. It was just after lunch, which they hadn't stopped for, that Mitchie recognized the woods right before the….

And even as she realized where she was, the shack appeared in front of her through the line of trees. She tapped her horse with her heels and the obedient animal thundered through the trees, giving her a clear view of the shack.

There stood everyone, the general, Brown, Nate, Jason, Daniella, Caitlyn with a baby on her hip, and a little girl holding Caitlyn's hand, waiting for the two riders. Mitchie pulled her horse up sharply halfway across the field between the woods and the shack as a sudden realization struck her. _Her daughter would not remember who she was_.

She looked at the little girl, the spitting image of herself, and she felt her heart break. Shania would shy away from her. She would think that she was a stranger. She would not recognize her as the woman that loved her so much.

The little girl, however, did not shy away. She returned Mitchie's gaze with a searching one of her own, and then, wonder of wonders, a grin broke out on her face and she tore her hand out of Caitlyn's. "Mama!" she cried, hopping down each porch step with effort and running across the field, waving her little hands in the air as she toddled. "Mama! Papa!"

Mitchie kicked her feet out of the stirrups and leapt to the ground, barely noticing Shane doing the same thing, and ran to meet her daughter. When she reached her, Mitchie went down on her knees, ignoring the sparse snow still on the ground, in order to be closer to her daughter's height and wrapped her arms around her little girl, kissing her cheeks, her eyes, her nose, and her forehead.

"Oh Shania," she whispered as she hugged the girl close. She felt Shane hugging them both as well, and she felt complete. Her little family. Her little circle of love.

She gave Shania another kiss and then stood, turning to the rest of the people waiting for her. Caitlyn was the first to leap into action, as was normal Caitlyn behavior. She gave a cry and flew down the porch steps, racing towards Mitchie with her arms outstretched. The two women hugged each other so hard that they lost their breath, and were barely able to gain it back before the whole family was swarming around them, eager to give both Mitchie and Shane a hug and welcome them back.

Mitchie and Shane stood in the middle of the family circle, Mitchie holding Shania on her hip since neither of them were willing to be separated any longer from each other. Mitchie, knowing that she would not be heard over the crowd of people around her, looked at Caitlyn and then looked pointedly at Shania, asking a silent question.

Caitlyn raised her voice so that she could be heard over the din of the crowd around them. "I showed her the picture of you and Shane from your wedding every night and told her everything I could about you two." She shrugged. "I was hoping it would help, and it did!"

Mitchie hugged her daughter to her and delighted as the little girl buried her cheek in Mitchie's shoulder. "Thank you," she mouthed so as not to disturb her daughter.

As she looked around the little gathering, Mitchie's heart soared yet again. Some people had a family tree. She had a family circle, one built on love and friendships that would last forever.

**A/N: Long chapter!! Hope you all liked it, though! Thank you to SceneKidsWetTheBed for favoriting. I hope that you'll review soon and tell me exactly what you like! :D Thank you again, all of you, so much for reading and reviewing. Over 600 reviews!!! Wow! Also, thanks so much to mickeyhagg for logging in so that I can actually thank her! LOL! Anyways, please review you guys! I love hearing from you!!!**


	97. Spring

**This is Prompt No. 93-Spring**

Spring came sooner than Mitchie had anticipated. What little snow was left had melted, soaking into the ground and giving the tiny green shoots of grass their first nutrients. _"Yes,"_ she decided, as she sat out on the porch of the base, _"spring is a time of healing."_

And she _had_ healed. The last, most detrimental breaks had finally repaired themselves, and all of her bruises had vanished. She was back home, and she was with family. Her hand moved thoughtfully to her stomach, and she smiled. Yes, she was indeed going to have another baby, and soon, when the moment was right, she would tell Shane.

"Mama! Mama! Look at me!"

Mitchie's concentration was broken by the happy little cry, and she looked up to see her daughter perched on a horse's back, being led carefully around in a small circle by Jason, Daniella holding onto her from behind. To see her daughter, her smile so wide and carefree, having such fun for a rare afternoon, brought a smile to Mitchie's face as well. There were so few times when they could venture out of doors for fear of Confederate soldiers that this was most certainly a treat.

"You look wonderful, darling!" she called out, clapping her hands in honest excitement.

Shania looked down at her uncle and his fiancé and smiled angelically. "You can let go now," she told them.

Mitchie heard Jason's hearty laugh and smiled as he told his niece, "I don't mind holding on for a little while longer." He winked at her. "Don't worry. You'll have plenty of time to ride on your own. Don't rush it _just_ yet."

Mitchie let out a quiet laugh, not wanting her daughter to think that she was laughing at her, and returned to her thoughts, convinced that her daughter was in good hands.

When would there be a "right time" to tell Shane? She feared that it would be a while, since Shane and Nate were busy moving furniture into the new houses in Washington D.C. in the hopes that the war would not last for too much longer. Already, it had been four years of fighting. Four years of blood and death and pain. When would it end?

Mitchie stood up, no longer in the mood for sitting outside and drinking in the sunshine. She motioned to Daniella, silently telling her that she was going to go inside, and then disappeared into the shack, being careful not to disturb the dust that was carefully laid around the room to give the appearance of neglect. She slipped into the cupboard and gave the necessary signal, having had Shane teach it to her a while ago, and began to descend.

When she reached the bottom, Mitchie nodded to the young man that operated the cupboard lift and then turned down the hall that led to Caitlyn and Nate's apartments. She knocked once on the door before entering and found Caitlyn in the kitchen making herself a pot of tea. When she caught sight of Mitchie, Caitlyn grinned. "You have the best timing in the world," she teased, indicating the tea. "Have a seat."

Mitchie did as she was instructed and gratefully took the cup and the sandwich that Caitlyn held out to her. "Thank you," she said as she sipped the tea.

Caitlyn sat down across the tiny table from Mitchie and smiled, rolling her cup from side to side in her hands. "I was hoping you'd come for a visit soon," she said. "It's been too long since we've been by ourselves with no little ones."

Mitchie nodded. "You're right," she told her friend.

Caitlyn glanced up at Mitchie and took a bite of her sandwich, looking thoughtful. "So," she began slowly, "when's the baby due?"

Mitchie's cup wobbled as she jumped in surprise. "How did you-?" she trailed off.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes comically. "I was around when you were carrying Shania, I've had my own baby in the meantime, and, well, let's just say that it's a gift I have." She winked at Mitchie teasingly. "Did you not want me to know?" Now, her voice sounded slightly hurt, and Mitchie immediately tried to sooth her.

"No, no," Mitchie assured her. "That's not it at all! I was just waiting for the right moment to tell everyone." She paused and then added softly, "I was waiting for the right moment to tell Shane first."

Caitlyn nodded, understanding. "And it hasn't come up yet," she guessed.

Mitchie shook her head, taking another sip of her tea and glancing down at her cup, swirling some of the tea grinds around and around the bottom of it. "No, it hasn't," she admitted. "I wanted to be sure that-" here she blushed, and it took her a moment to continue. She did, after a deep breath, and said, "I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to carry another baby to term after what happened at court. When I was sure that I was really going to have a baby, I wanted to tell Shane immediately, but it was never the right time, and when we got home he was just so busy moving all that furniture with Nate that I haven't had a chance."

Caitlyn nodded, reaching across the table to squeeze Mitchie's hand sympathetically. "It's sweet of you to want to wait," she told Mitchie, "but sometimes, waiting isn't always the best way to go about it." She laughed slightly. "I tried waiting, and I tried hiding the fact that I was pregnant. You remember, don't you?"

Mitchie laughed. "Yes," she said, remembering how secretive and embarrassed Caitlyn had been at first about her pregnancy.

"Well, I finally couldn't stand it anymore and told Nate when he was moving my favorite vase from one table to another." She smirked. "He dropped my vase, broke it, scattered water all over the new rug we had just gotten, and," here, her voice softened considerably, "he picked me up and whirled me around and then cooked me dinner to celebrate." Caitlyn smiled over at Mitchie and added, "That was the best day of my life, aside from when he asked me to marry him."

"What about the vase?" Mitchie teased.

Caitlyn shrugged. "It was worth it," she teased right back.

Mitchie sat for a moment in thought. "You're right," she said with a nod. "I'll snatch Shane away as soon as I see him."

"Caity!" someone called, shutting the apartment door behind them.

Caitlyn's cheeks turned pink with excitement. "Looks like now's your chance," she whispered to Mitchie. "We're in here!" she called, raising her voice slightly.

As if preordained to arrive just after Mitchie had made her decision, Nate and Shane came into the kitchen, looking slightly tired, but relieved. "Hello, ladies," Shane said, greeting Caitlyn with a kiss on the cheek and Mitchie with a slight, lingering kiss on her lips.

"You two look tired," Caitlyn observed. She raised an eyebrow at Mitchie and then asked, "Did you finish moving everything?"

Nate nodded, kissing his wife and Mitchie in the reverse fashion that Shane had. "Everything that we could move easily has been moved. The larger items will take longer, but hopefully we can work out some system for those." He patted his brother's arm. "Shane has a couple of ideas on that."

"Sounds great!" Caitlyn enthused, glancing at Mitchie again. Had she backed down from her resolve, or was she waiting for a break in the conversation?

As if to answer her, Mitchie stood up and set down her cup. "Thanks so much," she told her sister-in-law. "The tea was just what I needed." She turned to Shane and asked, "Would you like to help me with something?"

Shane shrugged. "Sure," he said.

"Great." Mitchie turned and smiled at Nate, winking at Caitlyn in turn. "See you later," she said with a wave as she guided Shane towards the front door of the apartment.

Caitlyn waved as well. "Moving a vase?" she teased, utterly confusing both of the men in the room.

Mitchie shook her head, knowing that Caitlyn would explain everything to Nate as soon as she and Shane left. "No," she said right before she disappeared through the door, Shane right behind her. "We're going to bake cookies."

**A/N: Okay everyone, I'm sorry that it's taken this long to get around to this chapter. I had it all ready to go on Sunday, but I ended up in the ER at 2AM Monday morning because of a bad allergic reaction. This is my first oportunity to upload, so here you go!! Hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much to my new readers that read this story in one day. You're awesome!! Please review guys!!!!! :D**


	98. Spiral

**This is Prompt No. 44-Spiral**

"Why are we doing this?" Shane asked, and Mitchie had to smile at the strain in his voice. She glanced over at him from across the table, his hands whitened up to his elbows in flour, and his cheeks decorated with specks of dough.

Mitchie laughed despite herself and leaned over to wipe off a bit of the dough. "Well, for one, it's highly entertaining!"

Shane playfully batted Mitchie's hands away. "Very funny," he told her sarcastically, flicking a piece of dough at her.

Mitchie grinned and then sobered slightly. "Also," she said, a little more reservedly, "I wanted to spend some time alone with you." She glanced down at the dough she was rolling and absently traced her fingers through the flour on the table. "We haven't had much time since we came back."

Shane stopped making a mess of his dough and glanced up at her in alarm. "Mitch," he said softly, "did you think that I'd forgotten you?"

Mitchie was surprised at how close to tears she felt, even though there was no real cause for tears. "No," she said with an urgent shake of her head. "No, I didn't think you'd forgotten me, it's just that I wanted to spend some quiet time with you." She glanced toward the dough that they had laid out on the kitchen table and added, "We don't have to do this. We can do something else."

She started to gather up the dough, telling herself that she could try and teach Shania how to make cookies some other day with it, when Shane laid his hand gently on hers and shook his head, stopping her. "I don't mind," he told her. He motioned to the dough in front of him. "Let's continue. I haven't had cookies in a very long time, and I was never taught how to make them."

Mitchie looked questioningly at him. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly. It had seemed like such a good idea when she had thought of it, but she didn't want Shane to feel obliged to her.

He smiled and nodded. "I'm sure," he assured her.

She spent the next few minutes showing him how to roll out the dough so that his clothes remained relatively spotless, resisting the urge to giggle once again. Then, Mitchie rolled out her own dough and began to separate it with a knife, forming patterns in the dough so that the cookies would have some shape.

She looked up when she realized that Shane wasn't doing anything to his dough and asked, "Is something wrong?"

Shane nodded, slightly bashful. "I can't do that," he said, nodding to where Mitchie had created spirals in the dough.

Mitchie smiled and moved to some of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a metal shape. She handed it to Shane and grinned when she noticed his confused expression. "It's a cookie cutter," she told him. "You simply place it over the dough and press down. Like this." She proceeded to show him by demonstrating. Out came a spiral much like the one she had created.

"Oh I like that," Shane said with a grin, taking the cookie cutter out of Mitchie's hands.

She smiled back at him and returned to her own section of dough. "So the moving went well," she said, making small conversation in the hopes of leading into her own news.

Shane nodded carefully as he punched through the dough, making spirals of his own. "Yes," he said. "Everything's the way we want it." He pressed the cookie cutter down again and said, "Nate's going to teach me how to make a new table and chairs."

Mitchie looked up from her dough and cocked her head to the side. "Nate knows how to do that?" she asked, amazed.

Shane nodded. "I know," he told her. "I was surprised too when he told me, but he's really good and he's offered to teach me so that I can do it too."

Mitchie rolled a piece of dough in between her fingertips, wondering if this was her opportunity to tell him.

"How does this look?" Shane asked, cutting into her thoughts and proudly holding up a couple of his spiral creations.

Mitchie looked teasingly at him. "Not bad for cookie cutter stuff," she said, sniffing for effect.

Shane laughed and flicked a bit of flour at her. She retaliated with a bit more, and a handful of it flew her way, coating her face and painting it white. "Oh!" she cried, but she was laughing even as she said it.

"Are you alright?" Shane asked, worried that he had thrown the flour with more force than he had intended.

Mitchie nodded and wiped the flour off her face with her apron. "Of course," she said, coming around the table to wipe Shane's face with her apron as well. "No harm done," she told him, tapping his nose lightly.

Shane then did something that Mitchie had not expected. He pulled her close in a hug and kissed her forehead softly. "Why did you pick me?" he asked.

Mitchie was confused for a moment. "What?"

"Why did you pick me?" Shane repeated. "That night in France, with all those eligible men, why did you choose me?"

Mitchie was startled at the change of subject, but she found herself answering, "You were the only one that intrigued me." She smiled and added, "I believe it was love at first sight, or perhaps love at first unmasking."

Shane grinned at her teasing and nodded. "Definitely first sight and _then_ unmasking," he agreed, then he pulled her close again and held her to his heart. "Out of all those men," he whispered again, more to himself than to her, "and you chose me. I'll never understand why you didn't choose someone else."

Before she had even thought about what she was saying, Mitchie snuggled into his chest and whispered, "I didn't want anyone else. I want my baby to look like you."

It took a moment for anything to happen, but then Shane pulled away quickly, searching Mitchie's grinning face. "Are you sure?" he asked, a grin beginning to grow on his own face as well.

Mitchie nodded happily. "Very sure," she said.

Shane picked her up and swung her around, laughing. "I'm going to be a father again!" he cried.

Mitchie laughed and demanded that he set her back down. "Do you think you could make four new chairs instead of three?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

Shane nodded, pulling her close and kissing her lingeringly. "I think I can manage it," he told her with a grin before he kissed her again.

Mitchie kissed back, her heart feeling full once again. She had told him, he had been ecstatic, and they hadn't even broken a vase!

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this quick update!! Please review guys! It means so much and keeps me going! :D Only three chapters left! What am I going to do with my time afterwards? Anways, the flour face and the cookie cutter line did indeed come from Camp Rock. I thought you might enjoy those. When Mitchie says, "I didn't want anyone else. I want my baby to look like you," those lines came from It's a Wonderful Life. If you haven't seen the movie, find it and watch it. It's awesome!! Once again, hope you like it, and REVIEW!!! :) LOL!**


	99. Exercise

**This is Prompt No. 51-Exercise**

Over the next few months, while Shane still allowed her to, Mitchie went about getting as much exercise as she could. She helped move all of the unnecessary items, such as extra bed sheets and extra cutlery, up to the Washington house, enduring the long rides through the tunnels just to deposit another set of silverware into her new kitchen drawers.

"You shouldn't be up so much," Shane had warned her when she began to rise even earlier in the mornings than she usually did, ignoring that the only appendages that were moving were her hands, and they were busy knitting.

Mitchie had sighed as she'd repositioned herself in the rocking chair by the fireplace and took up her knitting once again. "It's for a good cause," she had told him gently. "You don't want our son or daughter to have nothing to wear when they're born, do you?" Her eyes had sparkled, telling him that she was teasing, but Shane still hadn't approved of all the exercise she was getting, and had told her so…again.

When Mitchie had heard everything he was saying to her, she rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly," she had told him with a kind laugh. "I simply can't sleep in anymore, and as for the exercising, well," she had looked around at the rocking chair and the needles in her hands. "I've never heard of a woman losing her baby because she knit too much."

Shane had then turned away, grumbling, "Stranger things have happened."

Mitchie chuckled and he had shot her a smile over his shoulder, telling her that everything was alright once again in their little world.

They had overcome their differences about the knitting exercises, but that was the only thing that Shane and Mitchie seemed to agree on when the words "Mitchie" and "move" were used in the same sentence. Finally, Mitchie took to conspiring with Caitlyn just to get out of her apartments. Caitlyn would invite her over, and they would sit and talk, and drink quite a bit of tea, for hours. Mitchie always felt refreshed after her visits, and would return back to find Shane anxiously waiting for her, wondering if she was alright.

After a couple of months passing like this, Mitchie finally began to understand why Shane was so much more protective than the last time she had carried his child. True, he hadn't been there through most of it, but that was not the reason that he was nearly beside himself now. No, the reason was that he had been just as afraid as Mitchie that she might never have another baby.

When she realized this, Mitchie had taken the first opportunity she could find to have a talk with him and to assure him that she was perfectly healthy. She had run her fingers gently across his face and whispered to him, "I'm fine. Please don't worry so much." And somehow, he hadn't.

Now, he allowed her to do a little more than he had before. He still insisted that she couldn't pick Shania up, but he compromised by allowing his daughter to crawl up into her mother's lap for a quiet, fireside nap occasionally.

After their conversation about her health, Mitchie didn't see Shane as much. He was gone before she woke in the mornings, even though she was waking up fairly early, and he would tumble into bed, exhausted, just as the heaviness of sleep dragged Mitchie down into her own slumber. When she asked him where he was always off to, he had smiled and had said, "I'm exercising."

A month later, Shane unveiled his "exercise" project. He had successfully completed the table and chairs Nate had taught him how to make and had set them in the small dining room of their Washington home. Mitchie glanced around the room when he had brought her out to the house, taking in the fine craftsmanship, the sturdiness of every leg, and she turned teasingly to Shane. "Is there something you _can't_ do?" she asked. Shane had simply grinned and had taken them down the street for a short visit to the library so that Shania could see the inside of the vast building.

The rest of Mitchie's term passed rather quickly, and to the excitement of the whole team, she gave birth to a little boy, whom she named Jeffery Nathaniel. As she lay in bed, still breathing hard after the exertion, Shane crept into the room and laid down next to her, his eyes flickering back and forth from his wife to his new son.

"Is something wrong?" Mitchie asked worriedly. Had he noticed something about her son that she had not? She hastily scanned the baby in her arms for any sign of deformity, but she could find none. He seemed perfect in every way.

Shane shook his head, but Mitchie couldn't tell if the action was meant to answer her question or to pull himself out of whatever thoughtful state he was in at the time she asked the question. "No," he answered her a moment later. "Nothing's wrong."

Mitchie frowned, confused. "You look like you're looking for something."

Shane paused for a moment and Mitchie felt him tense. Had she said something wrong? "Do you remember that first night in England when I rescued you?" he asked, changing the subject slightly.

Mitchie nodded. "Yes," she said slowly, not quite understanding where this train of thought was heading. "How could I forget?"

"Do you remember when I went to touch you the first time and you flinched?" Shane asked, and his voice was soft, controlled, and somehow sorrowful. Mitchie nodded but said nothing. "That was the first time that you've ever really been afraid of me," he told her, "and it nearly broke my heart."

"But it wasn't-!"

Shane nodded. "I know it wasn't me," he said. "I know that you've never actually been afraid of me, but you flinched because of what someone else had done to you." He shook his head. "After that, I guess I just wanted to protect you all the time." He reached out gently and stroked the baby's downy head. "I was so afraid that something would go wrong, that I would lose you and the baby." He glanced up at her and ran a finger over her cheek. "I could never lose you, Mitchie. I love you too much."

Mitchie felt her eyes filling with tears and she leaned forward, despite the discomfort that the action caused her, and kissed him. "I love you too," she told him. "I will always love you, and your protectiveness." Her eyes twinkled and she lay back onto the pillows with a sigh.

"I'll let you get some rest," Shane told her softly as he kissed her forehead and slipped out of the bed. "Caity and Nate have Shania for the night. She's having some kind of sleepover with Benjamin, and I'll be right out in the parlor if you need me." He winked at her. "I think you've had too much exercise for one day."

He laughed as Mitchie made a face and waved him out of the room.

**A/N: I have to say that I'm slightly disappointed in you guys. I've had a whopping total of four reviews on the last chapter, and that's depressing considering the number of visitors that there actually was. PLEASE review! It's so important to me!! (Am I beginning to sound like a broken record or something?) LOL! Anyways, I hope you all liked it, and only two more chapters! That's more depressing than the lack of reviews, but not by much. ;)**


	100. Independence

**This is Prompt No. 94-Independence**

"Shania, please put that down," Mitchie said, feeling slightly weary. She turned around and gave her daughter a look that made the younger girl slowly set the knife down on the table and fold her arms across her chest. Mitchie snatched up the knife and turned away once more from the little girl.

"_Honestly!"_ she thought. _"Motherhood demands eyes in the back of my head at all times!"_ She turned from where she was in the middle of making bread to catch little Jeff's spoon right before he threw it on the ground. "I think you'll need this, darling," she crooned to the baby, causing him to gurgle and show her a mouth full of pink gums and no teeth.

She turned back to her bread, passing a hand over her forehead. Why did it seem so hot in here today? April was not normally a hot month, but Mitchie could practically feel herself melting in the heat. "Mommy?" a little voice asked quietly. Mitchie turned to find Shania standing in front of her, holding out a small sweater. "Would you help me?" she asked. "I'm cold."

"_Cold!"_ thought Mitchie as she stared at her daughter. _"It must be a hundred degrees in here!"_ But, she helped her daughter into her jacket anyway, realizing that it was probably the stress she was feeling that was making her hot.

"Where's daddy?" Shania asked. They went through this routine almost every day. Shania would want to know why Shane was gone, where he had gone to, and at what exact time he was expected home. Mitchie's answers, like her daughter's questions, never varied.

"He's out at work," she responded and answered Shania's other questions before the little girl could even open her mouth. "He had to go to town, and he'll be back around dinner time." She gave her daughter a look, pleading with her not to ask anything else, and was relieved when the little girl returned to her chair, satisfied.

Mitchie turned back to what she was doing, slipping the bread into the oven and hoping that it would turn out alright. Had she put enough yeast in? Had she forgotten some ingredient while she'd been helping her children? She didn't think so, but who really knew! Well, she could always feed the birds with it if the confection was unfit for humans to eat.

She turned around to say something to Shania, but stopped when the door to the apartment was flung open and she heard someone crying, "Mitchie! Mitchie!"

Shania jumped up from her chair, nearly knocking her glass over. "Papa!" she cried. She turned to her baby brother, who was watching everything that his big sister was doing. "Papa's home!" she cried happily.

A moment later, Shane flew into the kitchen, not pausing to give either of his children a second glance. He crossed the room in long strides and picked Mitchie up, whirling her around. Her feet swung out, threatening to knock over a chair or two, but Mitchie was far too surprised to care. "What are you doing here?" she cried. "You're supposed to be at work!"

Shane continued to swing her around, making himself dizzy. He staggered and set her back down, pausing for a moment to catch his breath, and then he cried, "There's no more work!" he cried joyfully.

"No more work?" Mitchie asked, not understanding. How could there be no more work?

Shane shook his head, his chocolate hair flying into his eyes for a moment before he pushed it hastily away. "None," he told her. He took her by the shoulders and bent his head towards her so that he could look at her levelly. "The war is over!"

_The war is over. The war is over._ Those words flew around Mitchie's mind, faster and faster until they were nothing more than a whirlwind. She stared at Shane, who was waiting for her reaction with a huge smile on his face.

"Over?" she said softly. Could it really be that her dream had come true? Was everything really over once and for all? Could they now live the normal life she had so often dreamed about? Could they not have to worry about dying every time they turned around? Was it possible?

Shane nodded, still eager for some other emotion besides shock. "Yes," he said. "General Lee's surrendered to General Grant. It's all over!"

General Lee, the one that had been supposed to bring the Confederates a victory, had surrendered. He had actually given up. Mitchie's hands tightened on Shane's shoulders as realization began to dawn on her, pushing away all of the confusion and doubt. "He's surrendered," she said, more to herself than to anyone else.

Shane nodded. "He's ended the war," he told her again, as though trying to break past the barrier of shock that had mounted around her mind.

And with that, the barrier in Mitchie's mind broke and she leapt up, throwing her arms around Shane's neck and hugging him tightly. She laughed just for the sheer joy of it, and so did he. He picked her up once again and swung her around, setting her down only when she insisted that he do so.

She stared at him, breathless from her laughter, but no longer shocked. "The war is over," she said with a huge smile. Shane nodded, looking just as happy. "The slaves have their independence," Mitchie went on. Shane nodded again. "We don't have to hide anymore." Shane shook his head this time, his grin getting still wider, if that was even possible.

"What are you two talking about?" Shania asked, her small face scrunched up in confusion as she watched her parents carry on in her kitchen.

Both Mitchie and Shane turned to look at her, and they both laughed. "Nothing, darling," Shane assured her. "We'll explain it all when you get just a bit older."

Shania examined him closely. "I'll be older tomorrow," she told him thoughtfully.

Mitchie had to cover a laugh, as did Shane. He nodded gravely, though, and said, "Yes, perhaps tomorrow." Satisfied, Shania turned back to playing with her little brother, leaving her parents to rejoice over the good news that meant so much to them.

"So we could get out of here," Mitchie said softly, glancing around the apartment. "We could go live in our house in Washington, right?"

Shane nodded. "We just have to move some of the bigger pieces of furniture," he told her, "but other than that, everything's ready to go and easily moved." He put his hand on the kitchen wall and sighed. "The whole base is clearing out. There's no more need for the UUS." He laughed slightly. "I never thought that there would come a day when I would be happy to stop working as a spy."

Mitchie laughed along with him. "Well, I'm done," she told him with a smile.

He nodded and kissed her cheek. "When you get a chance, I'd start packing up whatever you can. I'd like to move out as soon as possible before everyone starts rushing off."

Mitchie nodded and leapt toward the door leading into their bedroom before she turned to Shane, who was watching her go with an amused expression, and asked, "What's today's date?"

"April 9, 1865," he told her.

Mitchie nodded, committing the day to memory in her mind. "April ninth," she said softly. She looked up and smiled at Shane. "It's going to be a rather historic date, isn't it?"

Shane nodded to her, allowing Jeff to pull on his fingers. "Yes, I suppose it will," he mused. "And we were a part of it."

Mitchie nodded and disappeared into the bedroom, eagerly scrambling around to pull out as many clothes as she could pile on her bed. Shane strode into the room and watched her, leaning on the doorframe while she scurried around, muttering to herself about the wrinkles that this move would cause to her dresses. As though she could really care about wrinkles at a time like this!

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Shane asked, amused.

Mitchie stopped, mid-packing. What had she forgotten? She looked around the room, trying to figure out what he was talking about. "No…" she trailed off slowly, unsure.

Shane jerked his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Your bread," he prompted.

Mitchie's face turned bright red. In all of her excitement, she'd completely forgotten about her bread in the oven. "Oh," was all she managed to choke out before she ran back into the kitchen to tend to her cooking. For a moment, packing would have to wait.

**A/N: One hundred chapters!! Oh my! LOL! Anways, thank you to those who so kindly reviewed the last chapter for me. As to my anonymous reviewer's question, yes, I'll definitely have more stories on here. Writing is like breathing for me. :D Thanks for reading my other ones!! iluvJB, I hope you're happy with this chapter! I was grinning as I wrote it and thinking of you. For the rest of you, please review once again. There are puppy dog eyes at my end!** **Only one chapter to** **go!!**


	101. Ending

**This is Prompt No. 3-Ending**

There is something intensely satisfying about moving into one's own home. As I watch my husband and brother-in-law move our bed in through the narrow doorway, I smile to myself. I really can't help but smile, for the war is over, we are moving into the houses that are rightfully ours, and most of all, we are safe.

"Do you think they'll hurt themselves?" Caitlyn asks. I turn to smile at her as well. Smiling is all I seem to be capable of now!

"Probably," I sigh, though the gesture is overdone and we both laugh.

I take a box from Anna, chiding her about carrying things that are too heavy for her, and instead pass it over to her husband, my brother. _My brother_. There is something inside of me that aches as I watch one of my best friends and my brother working together to help us move into the house next door to them.

Four years ago, they had not worked as equals. Four years ago, I had never met Shane. Four years ago, my life had been, in all instances, rather dull and boring. But that had changed. I made a mental note to write a small little letter of thanks to Tess for dragging me to that ball in France in the first place.

The ball in France. My, that seemed like ages ago now! Was it really only four years ago that I had met Shane? Was it really only four years ago that I had run away from home to become a soldier instead of my brother?

"What are you thinking about?" Caitlyn asks me, watching my face curiously. I come out of my daze and glance back over at her, realizing that there were probably several emotions that had flown across my face while I had been off in thought.

"The Confederate camp," I tell her. "The one where I met Jason."

As though we can't help it, we both turn and look over at where Jason and Daniella are playing with our children, laughing and creating quite the uproar. I watch as Jason picks up my daughter and my mind takes me back to the time that he and I had shared a tent and the time when he had taught me how to load a gun.

"That seems like forever and a day ago," Caitlyn tells me, wincing as she watches Nate get his hand momentarily caught in between the doorframe and the bed. She's not listening at the moment, so I wait to make sure that Nate is able to squeeze through the door, pulling the bed in behind him, before I continue.

"It does," I tell her. "It seems like a very long time since I met you."

Caitlyn grins and her own face takes on a thoughtful look as she, no doubt, remembers the day that Shane brought me to the base, gunshot and feverish. "Yes, you didn't look so great then," she teases me, and I playfully give her shoulder a push. "But," she continues, giving me a look that tells me that she isn't finished, "you looked gorgeous on your wedding day."

My own smile grows wider as I remember those first three, perfect weeks of matrimony before Shane left. I nod and say, "And then I was so scared about having a baby."

Caitlyn actually laughs and she nods rapidly. "You should've seen your face that day when you went running to Brown. You looked like death was after you!"

I scrunch up my nose, feeling silly. "Well, I was scared!" I protest indignantly, but my smile is still there.

"We've had quite a life, haven't we?" Caitlyn asks, sounding as though she is so much older than she really is. Yet, when I look at her, I realize that she does look older than she really is. Everyone from the base looks old for their age. Everyone looks tired.

"It's taken its toll on us," I say thoughtfully, wondering if I look the same. I must, for I've gone through almost everything that Caitlyn has, and a little more. I glance over at Shane and examine him for a moment. Does he look old? No, but he looks knowledgeable, like he's been through so much more than he should have. _"And he has,"_ I think, remembering back the year it's been since Europe.

"Somehow, though," Caitlyn tells me, "we've all gotten through it. We've all done our duties, and we've even had a bit of life during it." She glances over at her own son who is toddling around, trying to catch Shania and failing miserably. Caitlyn's face breaks out into a loving smile as she watches her son squeal in both indignation and delight.

Yes, we've all grown older, we've all been through so much, but as I think back over the journey my life has taken me on, I couldn't think of a better one to have been on. Really, how many people do you know that would take their brother's place, expecting to die for him, get captured by the enemy, which is really the side they wish to be on in the first place, and fall in love while they're at it?

How many people do you know of that grew up on a plantation, sewing doilies for their hope chests, and instead, were trained as spies only a few years later? How many people do you know of that were invited to Queen Victoria's grand court, only to find that their mission had been compromised years before they ever went?

How many people do you know of that were beaten and broken while in prison as a spy, waiting for the summons to arrive to execute them, yet lived to tell the tale? How many people do you know of that had their husband come rushing in, just hours before said execution, to rescue them? How many people do you know of that survived a British navy attack when they were really the ones at fault? How many people do you know of that found love and happiness where they never expected it, and were able to serve in one of the greatest underground bases ever known under President Lincoln's administration?

Can you answer those questions, my dear reader?…No? Well, that's what I thought. And _that_ is why my story is different.

**A/N: It's actually over. :( When I finished, I just kind of sat there, staring at the computer screen. I never really thought that it would come to an end, but it has. Because the first chapter that I wrote of this story was done in first person, I decided to end the story that way. I hope that you all enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if you have not already, I hope that you might nominate it for the Best Overall Story award for the Official Camp Rock Awards. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your reviews! Please review one last time for this last chapter!! :D Some of you have asked what I'm planning to do next, and I have a couple of stories in mind, but I'm going to post the first chapter of a new one right after I post this, so please check out Love is Unconscious, and tell me what you think. If you guys like it, I'll continue. Thank you again, my readers. You are all, indeed, awesome!! Love, cr8vgrl**


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